Unbroken
by rAnsomedrOgue
Summary: Jane struggles with her double life, Weller sees. Set between 2.07 and 2.09.
1. Chapter 1

She's developed a habit of lingering at the office, being particularly diligent about her paperwork. It's boring, sterile, overly bright, and yet it's familiar, comforting. Lately it's the only place she feels semi-secure, even with the constant stares, whispers about the terrorist in their midst. That should say something, that she still prefers it at the NYO despite the hostility of her former team. But her safe house is cold and bare, makes her feel transient, alone. And her time with Sandstorm is full of danger, fear.

Jane shudders as she remembers failing her loyalty test, wonders if Roman saved her from a bullet. Daughter or not, she understands that Shepherd would never accept that kind of failure, weakness.

As if on cue, her phone buzzes with the thought. It's Roman again, with a coded meeting spot and time.

Jane closes her eyes, sighs tiredly. It's as harder than she remembers, living a dual existence. Probably because this time she has no one to lean on, certainly not Kurt. It's only fair, her penance for lying to them all. And yet she has no choice, it's this or a black hole, full of hurt. Worse pain than this, living as a pariah amongst her former family.

She heads for the meeting spot, careful to take the proper precautions, make sure she isn't followed. She has to maintain pretenses at all times, can't slip up at all in front of Shepherd's sharp eyes.

It's on an industrial side street when Jane notices a man in her peripheral vision, something in his body language triggering a warning. She turns, on guard, but two other men appear from an alcove between two buildings, grab her from behind. They handcuff her easily, put a bag over her head, throw her into a van.

What a surprise, Jane thinks, resignedly. She's afraid, but not acutely. Instead she feels somewhat desensitized, accepting of even more peril. It's what she's chosen for herself, despite not having a choice. She wonders if it's the CIA, Sandstorm, FBI, or a new player that's taken her this time. No matter who it is, she's only got herself to rely on.

Eventually the van stops and she's lead out, into a cold building that smells of rust. When they finally take the bag off of her head she sees Shepherd and Roman, standing in front of an unknown man tied to a chair.

Jane breathes in sharply, bites down hard on her lip. It's dark, dank, just like her own hellhole of three months. She smells sweat, piss, blood, nearly gags at the memories that arise.

"I thought we were done with the bullshit," she growls at her adoptive mother, her brother.

Roman is stony, expressionless. But she senses tension from him, sees worry in his eyes.

Shepherd is all business as usual, hard and direct.

"We're done when I say we're done," Shepherd replies sharply. "When I'm sure I can trust you again."

"I passed your loyalty test, what more do you want from me?" Jane fires back, trying to stem back the nervousness she feels in her gut.

"I need to see it," Shepherd says with a glare. "I need more than Roman's word."

"So you don't trust him," Jane replies, gives Roman a glance. He must see the danger he's in after lying for her, will he give her up this time?

"It's you I don't trust," Shepherd answers pointedly. "So it's time to prove yourself."

Jane tells herself to breathe, wonders what she's going to do when ordered to kill the man in the chair. Is still trying to come up with a plan when Shepherd produces a pair of brass knuckles, holds them out to her.

Jane feels dread creep up her spine as she takes the metal rings, slowly puts them on her hands. Watches as Roman briefly unties the man in the chair only to retie him to a ceiling hook.

It's almost too cliché, the old torture trope. And yet so accurate, at least in her experience. The man hangs from his wrists, groaning already at the strain in his arms. Jane can feel her own shoulders burn, just seeing him struggle.

She clamps down hard on the bile that tries to come up, closes her eyes and steels her resolve. Feels Shepherd's glare on her, hears her tell the prisoner that he controls his own fate, that the pain will stop when he gives them the right answers.

Then Shepherd starts in on the questions and Jane feels her head swirl, her stomach roil. She knows what her role in this interrogation is going to be, how she's to prove her loyalty. Vividly hears Nas in her head, saying she has to do whatever it takes to maintain her cover.

This is what she made for herself, all she is now. So when Shepherd looks to her after the prisoner refuses to answer the question, Jane has no choice, hits the man in the abdomen with a fistful of metal.

The prisoner groans, retches. But he swears he doesn't know the answers, that they're beating him for nothing.

Still Shepherd continues, fires questions off one after another.

How many more chips were made?

Jane punches the man in the side, hears a rib crack, remembers exactly how it feels.

Where is the storage facility?

Another punch, another loud crunch. The prisoner cries out for mercy she's not allowed to give.

What are the security protocols?

The questions go on and on and on. Jane hits the man until she doesn't feel her arms anymore, feels like she's watching herself from afar. This she remembers too, dissociating, hiding from the screams in a corner of her mind.

It's somehow worse that it's not her own screams this time. She'd been trained for physical pain. This, though. This was soul-destroying. She watches herself beat an innocent man, crush his ribs with brass fists, over and over. Shepherd tells her to hit him in the head and she doesn't even resist, fractures the man's skull, knocks him out.

At least she can give him that, she thinks. The escape of unconsciousness, some freedom from pain. But then Shepherd throws a bucket of water on the prisoner, takes out a device with wires, alligator clips.

No, no, no, Jane thinks, whimpering in her own head. She can't do this, can't hurt him anymore. And yet she flips the switch when Shepherd tells her to, nearly vomits at the smell of current burning skin.

Whatever they ask of you, she hears Nas say over and over in her head. She feels so far away from reality, watches herself hit the switch on command, all the while hating herself furiously. It's all on her, no matter what's asked. It was her plan in the first place, now she's suffering the consequences of being a soulless terrorist.

By the time Shepherd has the answers to her questions the man is mercifully unconscious again, having dislocated both shoulders struggling when the electrodes were put on his balls, then finally passing out when Jane ran the current through his scrotum.

"Good work," Shepherd says. "Now put him out of his misery."

Jane takes the gun that's handed to her, feels see-through, non existent. From a far away place the instinct of survival tells her it's him or her, that Roman can't save her this time, that Shepherd will just kill the man anyways. That it doesn't matter who fires the bullet. Even though it does, is wrong, unconscionable.

It's for the greater good, she says to herself. It feels weak, pathetic in place of a man's life. But the fact remains, she's at the mercy of the FBI, of Nas's good will. Do everything that's asked of you. Or else? CIA, black hole, life on the run, life of terrorism. Great choices.

Jane swallows hard, squeezes the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane's late, which always puts him on edge. Even now, when he doesn't exactly know how he feels about her. It makes no sense that he can be both so angry at her and so worried for her at the same time. Yet it's why it's so hard being around her, the eternal struggle between his emotions and his rational mind when it came to Jane.

So at the moment Weller's pretending to himself that he's doing paperwork, that he's not just constantly side-eyeing the elevator waiting for her to arrive. He knows his concern for her is legendary already, tries not to make it quite so blatant.

When she finally gets there it's mid-morning and he's been staring at the same folder for hours. Weller looks up to see Jane walk by his office, obviously avoiding looking in his direction. Which he uses as an opportunity to assess her appearance, sees immediately that she's pale, shaken.

She's almost by his office when Weller steps out, calls her name.

Jane stops short, clearly startled. Looks up slowly, turns around and gazes at him blankly.

Kurt frowns, tells himself to breathe.

"I need to talk to you," he says.

Jane nods, bites her lip. She's obviously tired, looks like she hasn't slept. But there's something else too, he can see it in the dullness of her eyes and it makes his insides freeze.

She follows him dutifully into his office then just stands and stares at her hands while he closes the door, turns to face her.

She looks completely lost and he feels his protective instinct start to kick in, that need to ensure she's safe.

Watch it Weller, he warns himself. This is how you screwed it all up in the first place.

He's trying not to sympathize with her, to remember the deceit, that this was all her idea in the first place. She asked for this, put herself in this position. Deserves whatever hardship she's now suffering.

It's the only way he can live with himself, letting her go out there alone. By telling himself lies, things he doesn't really believe.

"Were you on another Sandstorm mission last night?" he demands, his worry coming out as gruffness.

Jane nods still staring at her shoes.

"Why didn't you text me to let me know?" he asks, angrier than he means to.

Jane finally looks up skittishly, he can see she's trying to form words but isn't quite able to get anything out. In fact, she looks like she's panicking, having trouble breathing.

Weller feels his chest constrict and reaches out to her but Jane flinches, pulls away.

"Sorry," he says, starting to seriously freak out. Sure he has kept his distance from her physically since she's been back. But she had reacted like he would hurt her and was clearly struggling, not talking.

"What happened Jane?" he asks, trying to tamp down the anger, let the worry come through. She looks terrified as it is, he doesn't want to make things worse.

Jane looks at him eye to eye for just a moment and he sees broken unreadable green, a plea for help.

If only he knew how, what to do. But she had recoiled from his touch, seemed more skittish than the first day he met her.

There's a knock on his door and they turn to see it's Nas. Jane looks at him in alarm, then glances around as if looking for an escape. Apparently seeing no other options, she dives into a corner, as far away from the door as possible. Then huddles with her head down, her arms around her knees.

Great timing, Weller thinks, mentally sighs. His situation with Nas was complicated to say the least. The sort of trust created through mutually assured destruction, or something like that. The main problem being her seemingly callous regard for Jane's safety, in direct opposition to his overwhelming need to protect her.

He opens the door but doesn't let her in, imposes his much larger presence in the doorway.

"Was Jane on a Sandstorm mission last night?" Nas starts, to the point as usual. "I'll need to debrief her immediately, while it's fresh."

"No," Weller replies, bites down hard so it doesn't come out as a bark.

"No what? Weller, you know how important it is to get this information," Nas argues, trying to peer into the office, get her hooks into Jane.

"No anything," he says in his I'm in fucking charge voice. "No questions, no debrief, nothing. Not until she gets checked out, then gets some rest. So go find something else to do for the day and I'll let you know when Jane's ready to talk."

He can tell Nas wants to push past him, tell him he's a dim emotional twat. But she settles for glaring at him, stalking away.

Weller breathes a sigh of relief as he closes the door, turns to look at Jane who's still hiding in the corner of his office.

Her head is buried in her knees, arms wrapped around her legs as if trying to fold herself into a ball. Weller approaches cautiously, doesn't want to scare her as he sits beside her, close but not too close.

"Thank you," she mumbles, barely audible.

At least she's speaking, he thinks. He wonders what the hell could have happened to do this to Jane. Jane, who escaped from a CIA black site. Jane, who's lived a life of hell for ages now, never complained. Jane, who goes to battle for them amongst the enemy, risks herself daily.

He's seen cracks in her armor before. But not like this.

"What happened out there, Jane?" he asks, as gently as he can.

She still doesn't look up, doesn't answer for a long while. He can hear her trying to control her breathing and doesn't push, just sits there and waits patiently until Jane finally answers, mumbling into her knees.

"It was another loyalty test," she says, taking a shaky breath.

She pauses for a few breaths, clearly still fighting to control her emotions.

Kurt again resists the urge to reach out to her, hates that he isn't in the position to comfort her anymore. That he gave up all right when he arrested her, turned her over to the CIA, didn't look for her nearly hard enough.

"She made me hurt him, Kurt. Over and over. And then… She gave me a gun. And Nas said, I had to do whatever they asked of me."

She looks up finally, peeps her head up at him and his heart breaks at her tear-streaked face, the rawness of her expression. Instantly he forgets he's not meant to touch her, scoots up next to her, puts his arm around her shoulders.

Jane surprises him by burying her face into his chest, clinging to him while still sobbing.

"Shhhh," he mutters into her hair, his arms pulling her close. "It's okay, Jane. Everything's going to be okay."

It's a stupid thing to say and he knows it. Nothing's ever been okay for Jane and it's unlikely the future is going to be any different. But he doesn't give a shit about any of that for the moment, just needs to make things better for her, protect her however he can.

He sits and holds her until she stops crying, tells himself he's not enjoying it, that it's inappropriate on every level to relish having her in his arms, especially in these circumstances.

Eventually Jane sniffles, pulls away. Seems a bit surprised to find him so close, looks chagrinned at his tear stained shirt.

"I'm sorry," she says, pushing back from him. "I'm sorry."

Kurt reaches out, grabs her hand to stop her scurrying away.

"Jane, stop," he says. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry, that you had to go through any of that, that we're putting you through this."

Jane sighs, looks at him with tired, fierce eyes.

"This is what I get, Weller," she says dully. "I made this for myself. I can't come into your office and have a mental breakdown when you ask for a field report. And I don't get to come to you for comfort, not after all the lies."

Isn't that what he keeps trying to tell himself? That her mistakes were unforgiveable, that she doesn't deserve to be cared about.

But what he hears himself say is "hey, hey, the past is the past, Jane. We've both made mistakes, I know you were just trying to protect me."

Does he really know that? This is something he challenges himself on all the time. It's like he wants to say no and yet he knows it's true, doesn't need the fancy MRI lie detector to tell him so. Jane would never have done any of those things if not for the threat to him. Which just makes him feel worse, more conflicted about the whole situation of course.

Jane looks him with so much surprise, despair, he can't help but pull her to him again, hold her as she starts to cry again.

"Stop it," she says into the crook of his neck.

He smiles at the feeling of her breath on his ear, her tears against his skin.

"Stop what," he asks, telling himself he can't kiss her, that even hugging her in the corner of his office is two steps beyond the boundary line he drew.

"Being so good to me," she mumbles, pushing herself back, out of his arms. "I don't deserve it."

She's so miserable, full of self hate. He's tried hard to ignore the cracks he sees in her, otherwise he would worry about her constantly. But it's fucking heartbreaking. Her trying to convince him that no one would care if she died on a mission.

He's cross with himself for being so blind to it before, so consumed with anger that he couldn't quite see straight. Jane is constantly in danger, completely alone. Caught in an impossible situation with no support. No wonder she feels so worthless, expendable. Of course she would offer herself, it's just so… Jane.

"I can't imagine how hard this is for you," he says. "But you didn't have a choice Jane. Shepherd would never have let you go otherwise. She's the one in control of this, whatever happened it's on her, not you."

Jane shakes her head, looks at him fiercely.

"How do you know that?" she asks, a bit sharply. "I remember some of the things I did, how harsh I was to Roman, how I used people, manipulated them. This is me, Kurt. I'm a horrible person, a murderer. I tortured someone tonight, I inflicted so much pain. Oh god. And then I shot him, blew his brains out."

Suddenly she retches and Weller barely manages to grab the wastebasket in time. Rubs her back as she spits bile into the bin, looks up at him, embarrassment clear on her face.

Kurt just smiles wanly at her, pushes the offending garbage can away.

"All I can see is how hard it was for you to hurt someone like that. Especially after what you've been through, what I should never have let happen."

He doesn't like to think about it, all the ways he failed her. Especially now, when it's clear she deserved a chance to explain. To have given her up, let them torture her for months.

Weller grits his teeth, tries to bite back his anger.

"I'll never forgive myself for letting them hurt you," he says. He's thought this a million times since she re-entered his life, but he's never managed to say it, let it sneak through his defenses.

Jane looks at him askance, like he's not making sense. Shakes her head, frowning.

"Please don't lie to me, Kurt," she says pleadingly. "I can't take it."

He doesn't argue, can see it's making her more agitated.

"Okay, it's okay," he agrees, tries to keep his tone light. "Shhh, no more talking."

He pulls her close again, is relieved when she doesn't resist. Wraps his arms around her, feels how shaky her breaths are, how ragged she is.

"Breathe, Jane," he tells her. "You're going to be okay."

It feels so wrong and so right, huddling with Jane in the corner of his office, running his thumb soothingly on the back of her neck. He feels her calm down under his touch, regain control of her breathing, even relax for a long moment. And then suddenly she stiffens up again, looks at him as if startled, extracts herself from his arms and scoots back against the wall, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," she says, looking at him wearily. "I should get back to work."

Of course she'd think that. That she needs to carry on like she didn't just come out of a PTSD-induced dissociative state. After obviously having not slept, clearly emotionally spent.

She looks exhausted, overwhelmed, skinny as hell. He thinks how she had felt sharp, jagged, in his arms; both emotionally and physically.

"When's the last time you slept?" he asks.

Jane shrugs, shakes her head.

"Well, it's a mandatory day off then," he says. "You should go home, get some sleep."

"No," Jane protests. "I don't want to go there. I don't want to be alone."

Weller's with her on that one, he also doesn't want her to be alone. Nor does he trust anyone else to watch over her. Which is a bit of a snag because he's meant to be in charge, running the NYO. Not just taking care of one asset, no matter how important that one asset is to him.

He tries to think of a place in the building for her to rest, somewhere he can check on her. But the holding cells, med clinic, break room are all unlikely places for Jane to relax, get some actual sleep. And she's made it clear she doesn't want to be alone in her safehouse, would likely reject a hotel room for the same reason.

He suddenly realizes this is how she must feel all the time, no where to go, no one to turn to. Which makes him feel a bit sick, a ball of guilt sitting in his gut. That she has no support when she's so clearly in need. Living a double life, exhausted and emotionally frail. Doing everything they ask of her, no matter the cost to herself.

She doesn't want to reach out, even now. That much is clear. Would have hidden this all away if she had the emotional capacity, if he hadn't forced her to report it to him.

"Okay, let's go," he says, coming to a snap decision.

Weller stands, offers Jane a hand up. She looks at him surprised, doesn't reach for his hand. But he refuses to move it, mentally wills her to trust him until she eventually sighs and gives in, lets him pull her to her feet.

She's still a bit shaky, he can feel her tremble. So he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze as he leads her out of his office, straight into an elevator.

"Where are we going?" she asks, as the elevator takes them down to the car park. She still sounds anxious, skeptical.

"Somewhere safe," he replies, hopes that's enough.

But Jane lets go of his hand, takes a step away. Looks at him suspiciously, glances around like she's about to bolt.

"Trust me," he says, even though he doesn't deserve it. Reaches his hand back out towards her.

"Please."

She gives him a wide-eyed wary look, so frightened and sad. It's the look that drew him to her from the start, the one that makes him want to wrap her up tight, fix everything for her.

But eventually she reaches for his hand, touches the tips of his fingers and steps closer again. He intertwines his fingers in hers, gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, hopefully enough security to follow him into an suv, allow him to take her away from the office.


	3. Chapter 3

Weller is screwing with her. That's all she can think.

It's not like him to be cruel, malicious. Not even when things were at their worst.

Yet to offer her all this comfort, leave her feeling so torn between what she wants and what she deserves and what she can't have.

She spent three months in that hole, blaming herself for all of it. It was her idea in the first place wasn't it? And then she took her own bait, fell in love with Kurt, set up Mayfair to protect him. It was all on her, even if it was well-meaning, coerced, a huge fucking mistake. She's the one that screwed it all up.

Everything she had wanted from Kurt – a chance to explain, for him to listen. At first she'd been so angry that he didn't give her a chance, after everything they'd been through together. That he'd given her away to be tortured, hadn't cared enough to look for her.

But once the anger had faded in her exhaustion over being beaten, kept awake, Jane came to realize he thought she'd lied to him, that she was pretending to be Taylor. And in a way she was, regardless of whether she knew it or not. She was responsible for all his hurt, bringing back all of his terrible childhood traumas.

So she stopped thinking about what she thought she deserved. She'd come in, screwed with his life, lied to him, hurt him. She was guilty in so many ways, why did she deserve anything except pain?

She had sunk to some low places emotionally, in the constant barrage of CIA "interrogation". She's feeling all of those same things at the moment – guilty, shameful, angry, hurt. But also confused, almost comforted.

It's as if she's woken from her constant nightmare, straight into a fantasy. Falling apart in front of Kurt, having him be so goddamned nice to her. Saying things she had never even considered him saying.

But all the while Jane just feels sick, toxic. Like she wants to crawl right out of her skin, no longer be who she is. A survivor of torture. A torturer of how many. It came to her too easily, she thinks. She knows Remi would not have balked at all.

She keeps looking at Weller, for some sort of sign that he's come to his senses. She just killed a man after nearly beating him to death first. Where could he possibly be taking her? She knows she deserves to be in a cell for everything she's done. Even if it was sanctioned by the FBI, the NSA.

Thankfully Weller is silent, seems to be deliberately not looking at her. She can tell he's agitated from the set in his jaw and she wonders is he's finally come to terms with who she is, what she's capable of. It's no wonder he can't even look at her, she's sure he wants to retract all the words said in his office. At least that's what his grim expression is telling her.

She's been so fixated on her own self-hatred, her worry about Kurt turning on her again that Jane doesn't notice where they've ended up until Weller parks the SUV. Which just leaves her even more confused, wonders why he needs to stop at home before taking her wherever criminally liable double agents are dealt with.

Weller gets out, leaves her sitting in the passenger seat staring at her hands. They're raw and abused from hitting an innocent man. And yet he opens her door, takes one of her instruments of torture in his hand.

"Come on," he says, tugs her out of the car.

Jane follows as if it's really a dream sequence. Weller is so gentle and concerned, puts his arm around her and leads her up into his apartment.

She hasn't been there since visiting his father there, at the height of her lies and deceit. Right before it all fell in on her. Just being there makes her nervous, guilty. It's Kurt's space, she's done so much to hurt him.

But he just sits her down on the couch like everything's normal, then does some rustling around in his kitchen before coming back with two steaming mugs.

He puts them on the coffee table to cool, then sits on the couch beside her.

"Talk to me, Jane," he says, sounds so concerned.

She looks into his worried blue eyes and it all comes spilling out, all her shame, all her guilt.

"I hurt him Kurt. And I kept doing it. There's something wrong with me. I shot him in the head. How could I do that? Hurt someone like that?"

"You didn't have a choice, Jane," Weller argues, even though she knows he would never have done it in the same situation.

"I've always had a choice," she replies.

"She would have killed you, killed all our chances of taking them down," he says, as if he really believes she did the right thing.

"I should have let her," Jane says, with genuine regret.

"Please don't say that," Weller pleads, his expression tight and upset.

"It's what I deserve," she replies, so sure of it in the moment.

"That isn't true, Jane," he argues, really sounds like he means it.

"It is, Kurt," she fires back. "I'm a terrible person, all I do is lie and hurt people."

Kurt sighs, frowns and shakes his head stubbornly.

"You're giving all of yourself to this, trying to save lives when you could have run far away. Sacrificing everything, your family, yourself. Despite how angry you have to be at all of us, at the government, at the CIA, at the FBI, at me. I let them hurt you, Jane. And no one deserves what happened to you."

It's too much. She's so raw and chafed emotionally she can't take his words but she can't keep them out either. She feels tears welling up again and wipes them away angrily as she tries to argue with Weller, tell him she's a torturer, a murderer.

But he infuriatingly just shushes her, pulls her to him when she starts to sob. Holds her so she's crying into his shirt again, rocks her gently and whispers stupid comforting things into her hair until she falls into a tear-streaked sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

He's been unabashedly watching her sleep. Trying to figure out his mixed emotions around her. His anger at her lies, at Mayfair's death has faded and sometimes he's upset with himself that he could ever let any of that go. He's particularly pissed that it was all done to protect him, that they used him to get to Jane. It bothers him in every way that she felt she had to deceive them in order to save him, that her attachment to him contributed to what happened to Mayfair.

And yet the fact remains, even in his rawest, angriest state he hadn't been able to pull the trigger. She'd even been goading him on, pressing on his pain.

He'd seen it as a weakness at that point, had been irritated with himself both for not doing it and for even thinking of it. Zapata had clearly seen it the same way, had given him the 'boss, you're pathetic' look as he'd watched Jane go, sick to his stomach at letting her drive off bleeding.

He had said he didn't hate her, that he just didn't know who she was any more. At the time it had been true, he was distrustful of her, worried that it had all been a ploy. To find out that the Jane he'd hopelessly fallen for was a sleeper agent, sent to him to exploit his past, his darkest demons. It had hurt, more than he thought possible. That they made him believe she was Taylor, that she lied to make it seem true.

But now. Well, it's not like he's over it but Weller realizes he's done blaming Jane. He believes that she genuinely thought she was Taylor, that she lied about her memories because she wanted it to be true. She wanted to be his answer, his everything, his missing girl. And he had wanted it so fucking badly, he'd lost all objectivity.

None of that is on her though. All Jane had ever done was try to find answers, help them save lives, protect her team. Despite it having turned out so very wrong he knows in his heart that she had tried to prevent it all from happening, had repeatedly put herself in danger to ensure his safety.

And since she's been back Jane's who she's always been. Fierce and protective. Loyal, dedicated, self-sacrificial. Despite all the animosity she's faced, all the pain she's been through. She bears it all, takes it all on herself no matter the cost.

As if on cue Jane starts to moan and struggle in her sleep.

"No," she mutters, her breathing quickening. "No, no I'm sorry, I didn't mean to Kurt, I had to, I didn't know."

His chest freezes at his name, the thought that he haunts her dreams. He's had the matching nightmare often since she's returned. Where he arrests her while she pleads for mercy, where he ships her off to a torture chamber and watches as she suffers, unable to save her despite his regrets.

Jane starts to really struggle with the blanket, is about to fall off the couch when Weller grabs onto her shoulders, tries to restrain her.

"Jane, wake up. It's just a nightmare," he says, giving her a shake.

Jane opens her eyes but she's clearly not quite awake, reacts by struggling against his arms, punching him in the temple hard enough his vision swims for a moment.

Stupid, Weller, he thinks to himself as he groans in pain. What did you think was going to happen? She's a lethal weapon, even half asleep.

Hitting him finally wakes her up though, her eyes wide in realization of what she'd just done.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she mumbles, scrambling away from him.

He should not be thinking how adorably embarrassed she is at the moment, how her leftover sleepiness makes his heart melt.

"It's okay, it was my fault," he says, his hands out in surrender.

Jane curls up in the corner of his couch, her guard back up. She eyes him warily, bites her lip.

"Why are you still here anyways?" she asks. "We should both be at the office."

Watching you sleep and regretting my actions is what the truth is. Keeping you safe, feeling fucking guilty.

"Paperwork," he says instead, even though it's clear he's lying.

"I should go," Jane states firmly. Yet she doesn't move from her couch corner, huddled with her arms tight around her knees.

"Where?" he asks, with no intention of letting her go anywhere.

"Work," she says, as if she could reasonably go to work in the state she's in.

"You're not going back to work today," he says firmly, shaking his head at her.

"I'm fine, Kurt," she argues. "Thanks for letting me sleep here. I feel better."

"Look Jane," he replies. "They don't need us today and you're in no shape to go back in. Something extremely traumatic happened to you last night. You're exhausted, mentally and physically. I don't think you've been sleeping or eating enough. So you're going to rest and eat and decompress before we go back to work tomorrow."

"Don't be ridiculous, Weller," Jane responds, sighing at him. "I'm fine and I'm sure there's work to do."

He can see the anxiety in her, is starting to realize that she only feels like she has worth when she's working towards saving lives, ending her family's terrorist operation. Which is so blatantly obvious when he thinks about it, it's her only way out, the one meagre hope that she has. It's not like Jane socializes, has friends. At least not anymore, he thinks sharply.

He's not sure he can fix this, whatever is broken between them. But lately he desperately wants to try.

"Jane, it's okay to breathe," Weller says, hopes he sounds convincing. "Take a moment off, not carry everything with you all of the time."

Jane looks at him critically, scoffs.

"You're one to talk," she says with an exasperated eye roll.

"Yeah, well I came to some realizations," he replies seriously, looking at her to gather the courage to push the next words out. It's not the kind of thing he says out loud, outside of his comfort zone. But then again, she's always pushed his emotional limits, right from the start.

"I'm not going to lose you to this mission, Jane. And right now it seems like that's where things are headed."

"It doesn't matter what happens to me," Jane sighs. "As long as we take Shepherd down."

"It matters to me," Weller scowls, irritated she won't listen to sense. "Look I know we put you to this, that you didn't have a choice. And I've treated you in a way that I'm ashamed of but it's going to stop. I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself, whittle yourself down to nothing. I know what it's like to never forgive yourself for something. The toll it takes even when everyone else forgives you. No one deserves that, Jane. Especially not you."

"Not even you?" Jane says pointedly.

She had him there. Fuck. It had happened again. She had gotten past his defenses, somehow brought him right back to the rawest of his emotions, his first real encounter with guilt and shame. Pain and regret.

He is still angry at himself for failing as a boy, will always feel responsible no matter what anyone says. And he hates that it affects him so much even now, a fucking grown man with people to protect. Jane had been his to protect and he'd fucking failed her too. They had hurt her and he hadn't done anything about it, had let it happen on his watch.

Kurt feels himself falling into the familiar pit of guilt, his mind flooded with regret. Doesn't notice that Jane's scooted over from the corner of the couch until she puts her hand over his, nestles her fingers in between his. Nudges him with her shoulder then lays her head on his, looks up at him with a shy smile.

And what choice does he have?

Kurt climbs out of the dark, breathes her in. Gives her a sideways grin, squeezes her hand tight.


	5. Chapter 5

She feels rested for the first time in ages, despite having napped on Kurt's couch, woken to a nightmare by punching him in the face.

They're arguing about going back to work even though she knows it's pointless, that Weller will win. She has to make an effort, feel that she's doing her duty. Despite how tiring it is to always be doing everything she can to right the wrongs of her past. Even though he's got that stubborn set to his jaw, clearly won't let her leave without him, would probably resort to denying her access to the NYO if it came down to it.

It's infuriating and yet so satisfying as well. To have someone take charge, see that she's struggling, make her accept help.

And for it to be Kurt. Well. That was far beyond her meagre hopes.

At the moment he's trying to convince her to forgive herself. He's so earnestly hypocritical that she wants to hit him again, remind him of what she did, that all of this is on her.

Instead Jane settles for a vocal barb, a warning shot.

"Not even you?" she asks, giving him a knowing look.

Kurt definitely hears her jab, she sees his shoulders tense, his stricken serious expression. Shit, she thinks. She hadn't meant to push him into his own guilt, all those things he still doesn't forgive little Kurt for.

His need suddenly outweighs hers and Jane instinctively moves closer, abandons her safe spot in the corner of his couch. He doesn't seem to notice her move, startles when she puts her hand over his, sneaks her fingers into his grip. He's looking down at their hands in surprise when she bumps him lightly with her shoulder, lays her head in the crook of his neck.

She would never allow this for herself, to satisfy her own needs. But she knows what makes Weller tick, that he will abandon his own hurt to protect her. Even after everything she's done, falling apart on him in his office. He brought her home, watched over her as she slept, made her feel safe. And as hard as she's been trying to hide her exhaustion, it's good to be seen, be taken care of.

Not that Jane's forgiven herself, magically absolved herself of her sins. But apparently Kurt does, something she never expected.

She senses Kurt come back to the present, pull away from his ghosts. He squeezes her hand, gives her a sideways smile. Studies her closely then frowns at her.

"I bet you haven't eaten anything all day," he comments.

She hasn't eaten much of anything for weeks now but of course she isn't going to admit that. Still, Weller keeps on with the critical eye and she knows she can't fool him. He hadn't noticed before because he wasn't really looking at her. But he clearly saw her today and she knows it's obvious she's unnaturally thin, hasn't been bothering to properly feed herself.

Kurt extracts himself from under her, brushes his lips against the top of her head in what could be interpreted as a kiss.

"You sit here and relax," he commands. "Do you want a beer?"

"Weller," Jane scoffs, shakes her head at his ridiculousness.

"What, you can't have a beer anymore?" he shrugs. "Yeah okay maybe it's not the best idea on an empty stomach. But it's your day off."

He goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer, walks over and waggles one in her face. She smiles for real as she takes it from him, thinks this must be a dream or she's truly gone off the deep end.

But the beer is cold, tastes real. And Weller drinks one too as he pulls ingredients out, concocts something delicious smelling.

Jane finds herself flipping through a newspaper, pretending not to watch him cook. Aimlessly not thinking of anything except dinner, how attractive Kurt looks throwing spices into a pan. She doesn't let herself think about him like that anymore but she's so relaxed, her defences down. She hasn't felt this comfortable in her own skin since all the lies began. Since she stole a moment for the two of them at his door, all those months ago.

He serves her dinner, some Asian curry soup that sends fire up her nostrils, makes her feel warm inside. Opens two more beers then insists that she has to understand his hopes and dreams when it came to the baseball season. She knows he's purposely distracting her and he knows she knows, even gives her a conspiratorial wink. But what can she do except learn about Weller's team, shake her head and smile at his genuine excitement over grown men hitting balls with sticks.

It could really be a dream. Except she doesn't have good ones anymore.

But it goes on and on, even after dinner's done. Kurt being so loose, easy. Acting as if this was normal, that she could really rely on him.

It's only clear that it's not a dream when she gets the text, Roman again. Jane feels her heart sink, realizes fantasy time is over. She'd almost forgotten about real life for a day, playing house with Kurt.

"Hey what's wrong?" he asks, must have noticed her tense up.

"It's Roman, I have to go," she replies, trying to make it sound like no big deal even though she can already feel the familiar knot of anxiety between her shoulders.

Weller sighs, gets that grumpy look on his face. But he doesn't argue, tell her no. She loves him for that, for knowing she has to go, not making it any harder than it already is.

She feels stuck in place though, can't seem to make herself move. What if they make her hurt someone again, kill someone?

"I don't know if I can do it, Kurt," she says, hates how small the words sound when they come out.

Kurt makes a scornful noise, half grunt half laugh.

"If anyone can, it's you. I've never met a more capable, determined person," he says with obvious pride in his voice. "You escaped from a CIA blacksite, saved so many lives. I know you're tired Jane, that we're asking the impossible of you. But only because we know you can do it."

He sounds so goddamned confident, that she can really bring it all down from the inside. She doesn't understand how he can have so much faith in her after everything that's happened.

"Stop it, Weller," she mutters, scowling at him in irritation. "Stop being so… convincing."

"Every night you're out there with them it kills me knowing you're there on your own, that I can't be there to back you up," he says with a crack in his voice. "But I tell myself it's Jane. She does the impossible all the time. I mean, how else could I sleep?"

She had honestly never considered him worrying about her, had thought that anything between them was over and done with as soon as she revealed her betrayal.

It makes her feel both so guilty and so warm. That Kurt cares, that he's thinking about her when she's out there alone.

Jane feels herself unfreeze, shed some of her tension. She goes to him, wraps her arms around him, pulls strength from his solid Kurt-ness. Lets herself sink into him for longer than she'd usually allow, takes from him all the comfort she can get.

God, I love you, Kurt Weller, she thinks, briefly allowing herself the forbidden thought.

"I have to go," is what she actually says, giving him a resigned look.

"I know," he replies with a frown. "But you're going to get through this. We're going to get through this. I promise."

This time he definitely does kiss her on top of her head before letting her go, makes her smile at his softness. She gives him one last squeeze then walks out with his scent wrapped around her, still feeling the comfort of his promise.

It's ridiculous, he can't possibly guarantee that she's going to make it through the dangerous game she's playing. Still. Weller cares enough to worry, feed her, guard over her. Which makes her feel grounded for the first time in a long while, better able to deal with whatever comes at her.

She's battered and bruised, has been pushed to the limits. But they haven't broken her yet, won't be able to if she still has Kurt on her side.


	6. Chapter 6

Jane leaves, her beer still half full, his heart completely shattered.

Weller hadn't quite realized that his sleepless nights of late were so Jane-related. That he'd been up with her in solidarity, feeling frustratingly helpless.

It's been ages since he's slept well, since that night that flipped his already upside down world back into a childhood nightmare. Of course a lot of those first long nights had orbited around Jane too - wondering why she'd lied, what her part in all of this was, how she could have used his deepest pain against him.

So he hadn't noticed the shift. When his fixation on Jane had become less about anger and more about concern. How he would sleep especially lightly, on a thin edge of worry, whenever he knew she was on a Sandstorm mission.

What had never changed was his preoccupation with her, his inability to let go despite a strong effort to put her out of his mind.

He wonders what the night has in store for her, if she's going to be put to yet another test. A pit of terror sits deep in his gut, he knows she can only get away with this for so long.

Kurt finishes his beer, hoping to dampen his anxiety. Is about to put himself to clearing dinner when there's a knock on his door.

He looks through the peephole, frowns and exhales irritably. This is the last thing he needs at the moment, can feel his jaw set stubbornly as he opens the door.

Nas is wearing a taut annoyed look, more piercing even than her regular sharp self.

"Weller. Where have you been?" she demands, scowling. "Why haven't you been answering your phone? You can't just disappear and go incommunicado for an entire day."

Kurt gapes, taken aback by the force of her presence, trying to absorb some of her words. He takes his phone out as a stalling tactic, sees he has more than a dozen missed texts and calls from various members of his team. Vaguely he remembers putting his phone on do not disturb mode at some point and never thinking to look at it again. Because well… Jane.

Stupid, Weller, he groans to himself. He hates that Nas is right, that he can't just take off, forget about his other responsibilities just because Jane needs him. No matter how right it feels, how much he wants to put everything else aside to just wrap her up, hide her away.

Nas walks into the apartment, looks around pointedly. Which makes him suddenly hyperaware of the dinner leftovers and beer still sitting on the table. Fuck, he groans to himself. How did his life get so complicated?

"Where is she?" she asks, direct as usual.

"She left to meet with Roman again," Weller replies with a sigh.

"She never came in for the debrief," Nas comments with interrogative eyes.

"She was never ready," he contends.

Nas huffs irritably, shakes her head at him.

"And now we may never get the chance to properly debrief her," she states.

"Don't say that," Weller replies reflexively. It's not an allowable thought, a personal taboo. Jane will make it back, has to.

"You know there's a chance," Nas insists, pushing directly on his emotional sore spot.

He snaps, cedes his rational brain to the onslaught of anger, worry, fear, helplessness. Watches aghast as infuriated, desperate words tumble out of his mouth.

"Yes I know there's a chance. I know there's a chance I lose her every fucking night she's out there, every day we make her play this game."

Dammit. He had not meant to do that. He has not felt this volatile since that night, Jane sobbing, on her knees, his gun at her head.

Weller forces himself to take a breath, then another. Until he's mostly gathered up his emotions, tucked them firmly behind a steel wall in his mind.

"Look, she told me what happened last night, none of it was actionable. It was another loyalty test and she passed it but she needed somewhere safe to recover. Jane is the key to this. We need her to be mentally and physically okay if we have any hope of stopping Sandstorm."

He thinks he manages to get it out calmly, that it even sounds reasonable. But Nas gives him the look that says she reads him like he's sitting in her infallible radioactive lie detector. And it's not like he's ever been able to hide his excessive concern for Jane.

"But not at the abandonment of everything else, right?" she asks.

"Of course," Weller says with his mouth.

No way, his heart thunders defiantly

Nas glares at him sternly, gives him a disapproving shake of her head.

"Your team needs you, Weller," she states firmly.

He knows it, is annoyed at himself for letting it slide, forgetting to check his phone. It comes out as defensiveness, a hail of piss and fire.

"Yeah, well Jane is part of the team and she goddamn pretends to need nothing but she needed me today," he spews, low and angry. "I should have checked in…"

I just got caught up watching her sleep, cooking her dinner, his brain fills in, unhelpfully.

"And it won't happen again," he supplies lamely instead. "Okay?"

Surprisingly Nas doesn't look angry any more, just studious, resigned.

"So you remembered," she comments.

Weller looks at her confused, wonders where he missed the turn in the conversation.

"How you feel about her," she finishes, with a knowing tilt of her head.

Kurt glares at her, shakes his head tightly.

It's not something you ever forget, he thinks to himself.

"We're not talking about this," he declares.

Nas sighs, shakes her head at him.

"Just don't do something stupid," she grumbles.

Weller hears the unspoken 'for her' loud and clear, clenches with irritation.

"We done?" he asks sullenly.

She glares at him for a moment, then rolls her eyes.

"It appears so," she replies.

"Good night, Weller."

With that she walks out, leaves him standing there, awash in irritated relief.

Fuck, he thinks to himself, rubbing his forehead testily. His relationship with Nas is one he can't explain, one he doesn't understand himself. What he does know is that he doesn't spend his nights thinking about her even when she's physically present in his bed. Which is neither sustainable nor a good idea.

Which is just par for the course lately. He's been full of bad decisions ever since Jane turned up in his life.

Weller sits, starts drinking Jane's leftover beer while mentally reviewing all the stupid things he'd done. It's his personal scourge, a painful self-inflicted reminder of how he screwed everything up.

Ignoring the test on her tooth. Going against all his training as an investigator, believing what he wanted to be true. Letting his dad back into his life. Arresting the woman he loved.

Then self pity sex with Allie, getting her pregnant. Telling himself he was doing his best trying to locate Jane. Trying to exorcise her from his mind while dealing with Taylor's death, his father's as well.

Even now he's crushed by the memory, pulling those pink boots out of the dirt. Back when he'd found them he'd been a complete mess, a lifetime of hope shattered. His lost girl was gone for good and the one that he'd found had been sent to play him, had broken him into pieces.

So he had actively tried to not think about her. It had been the only way to contain his multiple griefs around her. Jane, with her astounding green eyes, her warrior soul. He'd been good at it even, had practiced all his life for it. Go on, numb and shell-shocked, pretend that there isn't a gaping wound where your heart once was.

And then she'd come back, her lies exposed. She had set Mayfair up, made him fucking love her. His anger had been monumental, he'd been so disgusted with himself for falling for it all. He had told himself no amount of sorry could make things right. Told her that too.

But she is so abysmally apologetic, abjectly alone. Trying her best to save the world when she could have disappeared, chosen another life.

Kurt tells himself he's not falling for it again, not falling for her again. That it's normal to stay up nights worrying about an asset, think about her all the time.

But really Weller knows he's well screwed. He's never been objective when it comes to Jane but he'd told himself it was because he thought she was Taylor. Now all the facts are out there and still he can't shake it, that punch of emotion that hits him when he thinks of her. It's made him realize he's never going to objective about her, that it's beyond his capacity.

Sometimes he's still infuriated with himself, for caring so much about her despite everything she did. For awhile now all this excess emotion has come out as anger towards her, like he was punishing her for making him love her so much. But that just made him feel like a terrible person, adding to her suffering after she'd already been physically and mentally beaten.

He'd been trying to figure out how to stop taking things out on her, take a step towards repairing the hurt between them. Turns out, he'd just needed to give into his rawest urges, channel his feelings back into caring for her, shielding her from harm.

Because Weller hasn't felt this settled with himself in a long time, despite screwing things up with Nas again, forgetting about his responsibilities at work. He'd managed to give Jane some comfort, told her some of the truths he's finally come to accept. That he sees her hurting, that he wants to help. That she means more to him than this mission, that he will protect her no matter the cost.

Kurt finishes the beer, pictures Jane sitting there, drinking it at his kitchen table just an hour ago. Her serious eyes almost relaxed, a grin pulling at the corner of her lips. He wants to give her that all the time, take away all her hurt and suffering.

No, Nas, he thinks. I never forgot how I felt about her.

And now it's time to do something about it, make up for his mistakes


	7. Chapter 7

It's late, past one am when she finally gets to their meeting spot, having made sure to double back multiple times and evade any possible detection. Not that Jane can think of who would be following her to a meet with Roman, but it's ingrained in her, a physical habit.

Roman is pacing when she arrives, growling to himself about something. Jane looks around and doesn't like anything that she sees. It's a remote location, an old pier and Roman's clearly agitated, flicking a switchblade open and shut repeatedly.

"Hey Jane," he says.

She doesn't like how he says it, the dark emphasis he places on her name.

"What's going on Roman?" she asks pseudo-calmly, even as nervous tingles shoot up the back of her neck.

He glares at her, points the knife in her direction.

"You tell me, Jane. What is going on? Because you're not my sister anymore," he growls. "I need to know I can trust you to do what you need to do."

Her anxiety heightens, she wonders what he actually knows, what he only suspects.

"I thought I just proved my loyalty," she counters, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "I've done everything I've been asked to do."

"You forget I know what happened with Cantor," Roman replies. "You've never hesitated ever before. You're with them. You're with the fucking FBI."

There's a frantic edge to Roman's voice she's not heard before and he's still pointing the knife at her semi-threateningly.

"Yeah, I'm with them. To infiltrate them, get us justice," she says, trying her best to conjure up what Remi would sound like. "That's the plan, remember."

"You can't betray us, you can't betray me. I won't let you screw it all up," Roman continues, like he doesn't hear her at all.

Jane realizes he's slowly backing her towards the edge of the pier, that she's about to have her only escape route blocked off by her angry homicide-prone knife-wielding brother. She stops retreating, stands her ground and considers her options. Trying to run around Roman would result in her getting pushed off the pier, possibly stabbed along the way. Letting him approach her didn't seem any better, though it did project more innocence, seemed to her what Remi would do.

"The thing is, Jane. What you don't know is, If you're with them, then Weller dies," Roman adds, smiling grotesquely at the idea.

"Roman, you're being paranoid," Jane fires back. "Besides, I thought we need Weller?"

It was a hunch, a prayer. That Roman was doing this on his own, that she could make him see sense.

"Oh, I think you need him, Jane," he says. "But we don't. What we need is you to be my fucking sister again, to do what you set out to do. And tomorrow night I'm going to stick this knife into Kurt Weller's gut and keep on twisting until it happens."

Fuck. Her chest freezes at the thought, Kurt in Roman's hands. She can't let it happen. But first she has to get out of here before Roman completely loses it.

She lunges at him, knocking his knife hand away from her while tackling him to the ground. He somehow hangs onto his weapon though, swings it at her while they tussle.

At first she has the upper hand, elbows Roman in the nose, uses her knee to try and dislodge the switchblade from his grasp. But he is full of rage, stronger than her, and clearly as well-trained in hand to hand combat as she is. He leverages his weight against her, slams his fist into her temple, manages to free his weapon, tries to stab her with it wildly. It seems like they roll around the pier for ages, neither of them able to gain a real advantage of the other until Roman lands another elbow to her forehead and manages to flip her over, pin her down with his knee on her chest, his knife at her throat.

"Remember what I said," he growls, still panting. "You're with us. Or I send Weller back in little pieces."

Panic is starting to hit her hard, she's at Roman's mercy now. Though she's fairly certain he would never kill her without Shepherd's okay she's watched her brother eliminate many of his perceived enemies without a second thought.

"Do what you have to do," she spits angrily. "I'm on your side, if you need Weller as insurance then fine. I just hope you checked ahead with Shepherd about your plan."

It wasn't much, just a glint of a hope. That dropping Shepherd's name would knock some sense into Roman, stop him from hunting down Kurt.

"Screw you Jane, I don't need you telling me what to do. You're the fucking traitor in the family, Shepherd will be thanking me by the end of this."

Well, shit.

"And just so you remember what's in store for Weller, here's a little taste."

Roman moves the knife from her throat to run it down her side where her sweater had ridden up during their fight, exposing her tattooed skin. He stops when the sharp metal point is digging into her hip, twists it against her bare flesh hard enough to draw blood before suddenly punching it into her.

Jane bites back a scream at the sight of the blade embedded in her, the sharp electric tingle in her side. She notes that Roman hasn't stuck her too deeply, just enough to shock her, make her bleed.

Roman pulls the knife out and gets up, wipes her blood off on his jeans. Jane immediately puts pressure on the wound, pushing her hand hard into it as she gets herself to her knees, then stumbles to her feet.

She needs to get out of there, warn Weller that Roman's coming after him. But first she needs to stop bleeding, find some super glue or steri strips to close up her cut before she can go save Kurt from a worse fate.

"Goodbye, Jane," Roman calls out as she stumbles down the pier. "Just remember you and Weller both have got nothing to worry about if you're on the right side of things. I wouldn't want to have to torture a federal officer just for doing his job."

Her throat constricts at the word torture, vividly remembers enduring Roman's efforts at breaking her. She cannot let it happen to Kurt, no matter what.

First though she needs something to put on her cut, slow the bleeding. Jane quickly sheds her sweater and tank top, then puts her sweater back on while using the tank top to apply pressure to her injury. Her wound dealt with for the moment, she gets moving again, tries to push her pace. Walks for ages pressing down on her side before she finds her way out to a more traveled street, then more long blocks before she manages to hail a cab, desperately trying to hide her bloody side.

The driver looks at her askance but stops anyways so she gets in quickly and huddles in the back, hoping he won't change his mind. Thankfully he takes pity on her, somehow doesn't notice she's likely to bleed all over his vehicle, and drops her off near her safe house without incident.

Jane staggers the last few blocks to the safe house, the adrenaline from her fight with Roman finally fading. She can feel the ache creeping into all of her limbs, the cut in her side throbbing with every step. Manages to stay on her feet long enough to stumble inside, make it to the bathroom, pull out supplies.

She has barely any possessions at the place but in her line of life a solidly stocked first aid kit is essential, even with the medical services available at the NYO or local hospitals. Jane pulls out steri strips and gauze before finally sucking in a deep breath and looking at the nasty rip in her skin. The cut is about an inch deep, just above her hip on her lower back. An awkward place to close up without sutures but she has neither the time nor the patience to go somewhere and try to explain her situation to them. She certainly can't run to Kurt immediately with Sandstorm and Roman possibly watching.

So she does her best with the wound closure strips, applies a liberal amount of them to keep it taped shut. Realizes afterwards that she should have showered first, groans in annoyance at her error and settles for washing the grime off of herself with a hand towel.

By the time she's done the first hints of daylight are coming through the window. Which means another sleepless night but at least it's almost an acceptable hour to go to the NYO and wait anxiously for Weller.

Jane takes an extra strength ibuprofen, brews some coffee to kill time. Stands and fidgets, clenches her hands as she tries to sort it all through in her head so she can relate it to Kurt without sounding as hysterically worried as she is.

Her remaining energy drains away quickly as Jane sags against the counter, exhausted in every way. For a moment she gives into self-pity, thinks how unfair it is that this is her life, that she has no choice but to risk herself nightly for people that just want to use her. That she cares so much about a man that gave her away, let her be beaten for months.

Yet she knows it isn't true, that she's made this for herself. She chose to stay around, knew they would find her eventually. And things with Weller had finally started to shift. Jane flashes back to his attentive care the previous day when she'd been at the brink of losing it, slipping off into a dissociative state. It makes her bite her lip in longing memory, makes her want him to be there now so she can unload all her worry on him, listen to him lie and tell her that it's all going to be okay. Which is not normal, at least not for her. She usually wants to hold it all in, has learned she can only rely on herself. But hell, it had felt good, to lean on Weller a little.

Now though, she has to be the one to save him. Get to the office and tell him about Roman's threat despite the tiredness seeping through her. Thankfully just thinking about the danger to Kurt gets her heart racing again, propels her into action. Jane gathers up all her strength and pushes herself out the door, every cell in her body vibrating with worry.


	8. Chapter 8

Weller is at work ridiculously early, clearly the only member of his team thankful for the late night call in from Patterson's database. He needs something to do, a direction in which to push his nervous energy. Or else he's going to lose his mind about Jane before it's even dawn.

Everyone else on the team has finally staggered in, all of them now standing around the main screen in the SIOC while Patterson tells them about some post on the dark web, how it's connected to one of the tattoos. Well, almost everyone. Missing just one very key asset.

Kurt tries to focus but can't shake all his worry and dread, a blanket of anxiety from a largely sleepless night. He had been wide awake when Patterson texted, unable to sleep soundly when he had no idea where Jane was, if she was in danger and needed help.

He knows it's irrational, that she's always in danger and he can't do anything about it, that he's better off getting some rest so he's able to do an effective job for her, for his team. But his Jane-related thoughts can't be controlled, allow no mental peace when she's at risk.

He looks around, anxiously scanning for Jane instead of listening to Patterson's explanation of how she decoded the post. There's no reason for her to be there that early even if she was done meeting with Roman. But he wants her to walk through the door, assure him that she's alive.

Weller drinks coffee, tries to drag his attention over to the question that Reade is asking, Tasha's smart-ass response. Something about how Reade wants to learn about Tor encryption to find a dark web tailor.

Normally he'd be all in for a poke at Reade's style, a jokey moment between the team. But he feels himself about to scowl at them to stay on task, despite the fact that he's not been paying attention at all.

Weller manages to check himself, bites back the comment he'd almost released. Hears the arrival of the elevator and feels his heart rate jump in anticipation, only to flatten out again when Nas walks out the doors.

He'd almost forgotten to call her after getting Patterson's text, possibly a subconscious desire to avoid her after their confrontation the previous night. Thankfully he'd remembered before he could be accused of icing her out, retaliating for getting scolded.

Nas comes up to them, asks about the case. Patterson gives a quick review while Kurt returns to his fixation with the elevator, mentally wills Jane to arrive.

His wish is finally answered just a few minutes later when the metal doors open and Jane hurtles out at them, somehow managing to look both pale and flushed at the same time. Weller steps towards her, flooded with relief.

Jane rushes to him, her green eyes full of frantic desperation.

"Thank god you're here," she gasps.

She's clearly stricken, lets out another panicked breath while gaping at him, words spilling out incoherently.

"I need to tell you, Roman, he knows, he's going to hurt you, we need to stop him," Jane stammers at him intensely, at a near manic pace.

He can feel the nervous energy steaming off of her, how tense she is. Without thinking, Kurt reaches for her, pulls her into his chest, making it impossible for her to do anything except mumble ineffectively.

"Hey, hey," he says into her hair. "It's okay Jane, just breathe."

Surprisingly she doesn't resist, does as he suggests. He feels her take five deep breaths, pull her heart rate down before stepping back out of his grasp, looking up at him in alarm.

"What happened?" he asks, only minimally less worried about her than he had been the previous day. She'd been through so much in such a short period of time, it's a wonder she was holding it together at all.

Jane glances around anxiously, as if just noticing that the entire team is present and witnessing their little moment. Flushes a bit as she launches into an explanation, her eyes still glinting with intensity.

"Roman knows I'm really working for the FBI, he's going to abduct you and torture you to make sure I stay in line," she says with a pleading look, her words pouring out. "And kill you if I don't."

"He's going to come for you tonight, Kurt. I'm so sorry, I thought you were safe, out of bounds because of Shepherd. But Roman is losing it, or they have an inside source. He's serious, Weller. We need to protect you, put a tracker on you, extra detail outside your place, everything we can think of."

Kurt looks at her, baffled.

"We can't do that, it would blow your cover," he states. It's clear cut to him, no way would he risk indicating to Sandstorm that Jane is on their side.

"I'm already blown," Jane argues, shaking her head emphatically. "You know it, Kurt. There's nothing left to save except for you."

He shakes his head stubbornly, tries to ignore her words. If Sandstorm knew she was working for them, it was a death warrant, even for someone as capable as Jane. He refuses to believe that she would give up now, after all the unthinkable pain she's been through, everything she's done to try and bring down her own family.

"Roman might suspect but if he knew for certain he would never have let you come back here," Weller argues. "This is a set up, he wants you to come to me, for me to act on it."

"Even if it is, he's still going to abduct you. You need to protect yourself," Jane fires back, eyes ablaze. "You don't know him, Kurt. You don't know what he's capable of."

"I can't take the risk, Jane," Kurt sighs. Rubs his forehead and shakes his head at her stubbornness. "Roman is just doing this to confirm his suspicions."

"Don't be stupid Weller," she groans. "I'm already a lost cause, this team can't afford to lose you too."

Weller looks around, remembers again that the rest of the team is in the room. Suddenly he wonders about everyone else's opinions, thinks surely they all see it his way. Not that anything is going to change his mind about his approach to the situation. He's just curious how much opposition he's going to face.

"Jane, why would Roman give you this information except to make you act on it?" he asks, sure in his view of the matter. "And now, thanks to you, I'll be watching out for him, we can come up with a plan. Everything is going to be okay."

"Jane's right," Nas offers from behind him, in that crisp tone of hers. "We can't afford to lose both of you."

"We're not going to lose either of us," Weller growls, refusing to even consider the concept.

"Kurt, you're being unreasonable," Jane tries, desperation in her tone. "Just stay locked down at the NYO tonight, there's no way Roman could get to you then. Or go out of town on a case, anything."

"What if he decides it's too much of a coincidence that I stayed overnight in the building on exactly the same night he threatened to abduct me?" Kurt counters. "And I'm not going to run. I already told you, Jane. I'm not taking any risks, not when it's your life at stake."

"My life? I don't have a life Kurt! We all know I'm not getting out of this. At least let me do something useful, keep you safe," Jane fires back, throwing his worst fears right in his face.

"I will not let you sacrifice yourself, Jane," Weller sighs, brings his tone down as his heart sags. Then steps towards a furious Jane, firmly puts his hands on her shoulders.

"Not while you're still here breathing in front of me."

She responds with an emerald death glare, pushes him hard, right in the chest. Then turns to storm away but only manages a few steps before clutching at her side, stifling a groan.

Kurt closes the gap in about a nanosecond, grabs her around the shoulders.

Jane scowls, tries to push away again but doesn't seem to have her usual strength. Which he finds extremely worrisome, makes him give her a careful once over with his most discerning eye.

What he finds makes the anxious pit in his gut settle in even deeper, roil with acid.

"Jane, you're bleeding," he says, willing himself not to just grab her shirt and lift it to look.

Jane still just looks annoyed, huffs irritably and glares at him again before answering.

"Yeah," she finally replies, shaking her head and shrugging. "Roman cut me."

For a moment Weller genuinely thinks his brain might explode. He stares at her, his mind a disbelieving blank.

"Dammit, Jane! Why wouldn't you lead with that?" he hollers. Of course she wouldn't. It's just so Jane. "What happened? Let me see."

He no longer gives a shit about her privacy, his display of overbearing concern. Reaches down and lifts her shirt up to reveal a bloody mess of gauze and wound closure strips over a deep jagged slash on the back of her hip.

Weller's stomach flips again as he sucks in a loud breath, grinds his jaw hard.

"You're going to need stitches," he growls, still fighting an onslaught of fury and compassion. Anger and adoration.

"I'm fine," she grunts.

"Jane, he stabbed you," Weller replies, tense with fury. "You're not fine."

"Don't be dramatic, Kurt," she groans. "It's just a little cut."

Weller feels hammered by emotion, bombarded from every side. He's hit by the abject fear of losing her, fury at Roman for hurting her, topped off with utter frustration at her disregard for her own safety. Then throw in some intense admiration, a large dose of compassion, complete devotion.

Basically, he's remembered yet again that he's in love with her, absolutely hopeless when it comes to Jane.

Suddenly he feels everyone's eyes on him, watching him emotionally implode. Weller realizes he needs to take charge of the situation and get out of there.

Silently he steps forward, grabs Jane by the elbow and steers her towards the elevator.

"What the hell, Weller," she snaps at him. "You can't just ignore this. There's no time for stitches, we need to come up with a plan."

He grits his teeth, reminds himself not to yell at her no matter how obstinate she's being. That it's his own fault she feels like she has no self-worth other than as a pawn of the FBI, that she pretends to not have any needs at all.

Jane is still glaring at him when the elevator arrives, sighs irritably but doesn't resist as he guides her in, selects their destination floor.

They stand silently for awhile, anxiety steaming out of both of them, the air brewing dangerously with emotion. Kurt feels himself internally combusting because he has no control over her safety, can't even force her to stop bleeding. Which makes him realize that he needs to calm down before he says something to set her off. Because Jane has the body language of a caged animal, looks ready to bolt at her first opportunity.

Weller considers the odds that she's going to make a break for it as soon as the doors open, what he would do if she just ran, tried to deal with the problem herself. Obviously he's not going to hurt her, doesn't want to restrain her. But he also thinks he can get her to see some reason if he can just talk to her for long enough before she takes off.

He looks up, sees they're not far from their destination. Realizes the window's closing on his surest bet in keeping her contained. Weller breathes in, decides to take a chance. Presses the big red stop button, pulls their ride to a clanking stop.

Jane doesn't bother to voice her question, just looks at him with sharp confused eyes.

Kurt pretends this isn't completely inappropriate, grounds for sexual harassment. She must know he would never hurt her. And it is Jane after all. Even in her current state she could take him down without maximal effort.

He tells his heart to stop hammering so hard in his ears. That he's just trying to talk some reason into Jane and trapping them in a metal box is the easiest way to keep her from running off while he does so. Totally reasonable, not an overbearing dickish power move.

"Sorry, I don't want to scare you," he says. "The doctor is on his way in and we're going to meet him in the medical unit but I just wanted to talk first."

Jane still doesn't say anything, gives him a 'well, talk then' scowl, a roll of her eyes.

Fair enough, Weller thinks. It's his big idea.

"Look, I know you're worried about me. Honestly, I can't even imagine why, after everything I've done," he starts. "And I appreciate the intel, everything you went through to get it."

Kurt can't help but look at her bloody side just then, frown at the dark bruise forming on the side of her head.

"Now I know to have my guard up and we can watch out for Roman. But I won't do anything that jeopardizes your safety, Jane. That is a non-starter."

"Weller, you don't know him," Jane insists. "If Roman is determined to hurt you he's going to find a way."

"Then he'd find a way even if I had a full secret service detail with me," he reasons. "Don't worry, everything's going to be fine. You know the team, we'll come up with a plan. But before anything else happens, you need some sutures."

"You're not taking this seriously enough," she groans. "This is your life we're talking about Kurt."

She's so frustrating, absolutely heartbreaking.

"And how seriously are you taking your own life, Jane?" he counters. "It might not mean much to you. But it matters to me more than you seem to understand."

Jane scowls, scrunches her nose up at him irritably. Breathes out a long breath. He can see her teetering on an emotional edge, waits anxiously to see where she lands. Reminds himself yet again that he can't kiss her, that he shouldn't even be thinking how adorably annoyed she looks.

"I'm going to be okay, Jane. We are both going to make it through this. But first you have to get stitched up because I can't concentrate when you're bleeding all over the place."

She rolls her eyes again, tilts her head at him just so. Kurt offers her a sad crooked smile, his most loving worried furrow until finally Jane gives in. He can see it in her shoulders as she slumps tiredly against the back wall, shakes her head at him with another sigh.

"Promise me," she says, suddenly sounding vulnerable, scared. "Promise me you'll be okay, Kurt. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."

Well, fuck. Just when he thought he couldn't love her more.

He would give her the world, if only he could. And yet all she wants is for him to be safe.

"I promise," he swears, as solemnly as he can. "I promise we'll both be okay, Jane."

It's stupid, an empty assurance and they both know it. But still it seems to loosen up the tight edges on Jane, make her look up at him with desperation instead of anger as he steps towards her, gingerly reaches out for her.

Jane resists for about half a breath before folding into him, imprinting herself in his chest. Weller rests his chin on her head lightly, finds himself kissing her hair gently without even realizing it.

"Everything's going to be okay," he mutters. "You're safe now."

It sounds good, is his most fervent wish. Kurt just hopes he isn't lying to her, this woman he's been pretending not to love.


	9. Chapter 9

She'd forgotten how irritating Weller can be when he switches into overprotective mode, becomes even more obstinate than usual. All those things she'd appreciated the previous day – his attentiveness, his care – are now obstacles in her goal of keeping him safe.

Currently he's trapped her with him inside a small metal box, insists on lying to her earnestly. Promising something he can't guarantee.

He's not taking Roman's threat seriously enough, which sets her nerves on fire. And yet he's somehow managed to wrap his arms around her, made her feel slightly mollified about his own stubbornness.

He kisses her on the top of her head and Jane mentally groans. She'd forgotten how much she loves that, a quintessential Kurt reassurance. He's fighting dirty, she thinks. Knows she's weak.

"Everything's going to be okay," he murmurs in her ear. "You're safe now."

If only life was just an elevator, frozen in time. They could both actually be safe, not targeted by terrorists, always in danger. Then again that life almost seems impossible, so far removed from what she's been through since she woke up in a bag, without a single memory.

Jane shudders with nervous energy, knows that Kurt is well-meaning, absolutely endearing, but a liar. That she's not safe, never has been and likely never will be. It's her penance for setting this up in another life, involving him in her terrorist plan.

Weller lets go, presses the button to restart the elevator.

When he turns back towards her he looks nervous, she even spies a hint of blush on his cheeks.

"Sorry," he says, "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

The thought of being uncomfortable wrapped up in Kurt's arms after thinking he'd never forgive her is absurd. Even while stuck in an elevator, irritated at his stubbornness. Part of her wants to launch herself at him again, let him soothe her with his placating falsehoods. That part of her feels the ache in her side, the pounding of her head. Would love nothing more than to sink into him again, let him hold her until she's used up all her tears. But the rock hard part of herself says there isn't time for comfort, that every minute got them closer to Roman's threat. That her wound doesn't burn, that her blood-drenched makeshift stitching is fine.

Jane settles for something in the middle, shakes her head at him with a sad smile.

"It's not that," she sighs. "I'm just still worried something bad is going to happen to you."

Weller frowns at her, his expression somewhere between bemused and annoyed.

"Jane, whatever happens to me, it's unlikely to be worse than what you've been through, what you go through every night," he argues, as if that means anything at all. Kurt shouldn't suffer because she had. He's done nothing wrong, deserves none of this.

The elevator arrives at the medical floor, interrupting their discussion, argument, whatever it is. By then Jane's given into the fact that Weller's not going to do anything about the threat to his life before she sees the doctor. So she scowls at him and rolls her eyes, but still stands a shade too close, relishes the sense of his arm against her lower back as he escorts her to the medical room.

It's pathetic, she knows. And pointless given her likely fate. But she has missed him dearly; thought he'd never forgive her, care enough about her again to be so stupid about his own safety.

It doesn't seem right that something so infuriating can make her love him so much. That she still adores him even after he sits her down sternly, refuses to leave until the doctor arrives, infringes on all her personal rights.

"You don't trust me," Jane growls even as she harbours visions of escape. If Kurt isn't going to take the threat seriously enough then she would have to come up with some other solution.

"Not when it comes to your own well-being," Weller replies candidly, plopping himself down next to her on the bed in the medical bay.

"You should be upstairs with the team, planning some way to keep you away from Roman," Jane tries, appealing to his duty to the job, a usual winner with workaholic Weller.

But this time he just shakes his head at her, turns to look at her seriously.

"Jane, it's not even six am and we're already on top of things, thanks to you," he states in his most reassuring tone.

Kurt pauses, looks at the emerging bruise on her forehead, then back at the cut on her hip.

"What would you say to me if I came in like that and you were in charge?" he asks.

She really really hates that he's right. That there's plenty of time for her to get stitches and still come up with a plan. That she would never let him run around with a bloody wound if she had the power to make him get it fixed.

Jane knows that he's just doing his job, being Weller. But her emotions are telling her she needs to act now, that the threat to him is urgent, requires everything else to be put aside. So it's hard to be reasonable, admit what she knows to be true.

"I would tell you to go to the doctor," she grumbles. "That everything else can wait until you've been stitched up."

Weller tilts his head at her, nods in satisfaction as if he's won the argument.

Jane resists the urge to elbow him in the gut, reminds herself she's trying to prevent him from getting hurt. Wrinkles her nose up at him instead, grumbles dramatically.

Kurt responds by tentatively settling his hand on top of hers, slowly snaking his fingers between her own. Jane can't resist looking down surprised, her heart flipping at the sensation of their hands tight together.

That sight, that feeling. Their fingers intertwined, Weller expressing everything with a little squeeze. It's momentary bliss, even amongst the bleakness of her current life. The forbidden thought. Hope, love. A future free of Sandstorm, one with Kurt still by her side.

Jane lifts her hand, pulls his up with it until she's able to brush her lips against his thumb, let him know how much she's missed this.

Weller looks adorably startled. She's somewhat stunned herself. The gulf between them had seemed so huge just a day ago. Jane remembers being so nervous, wondering what he was going to do with her, a quivering mess on his office floor. She'd done so well up until that point, mostly held it together in front of him. Never shown him how much she was struggling.

What had she been afraid of?

That he would tell her she deserved it all, that it's what she wrought with her lies. That he wouldn't even be bothered by her hurt. That she would bare herself and he would just let her keep falling towards the black hole of shame and guilt within her. That she would find out definitively that he no longer cared about what happened to her.

She had tried so hard to forget how it felt, to have him by her side, someone solid she could trust. How it had been everything, all that kept her going through the difficulty of her existence when she first came out of that bag, terrified and alone. Right from the start he had looked out for her, with his trademark overprotectiveness.

But that was before. When she was Taylor, his lost girl. Not Jane the liar, the traitor. Whatever he'd felt for her had never been real, was tinted, tainted. At least that's what she's been telling herself since the black site.

So this. Sitting here with Kurt, exasperated at his concern while simultaneously feeling it fill her with hope. Despite her grim looking future, the unlikelihood she will ever get another chance with him. Her heart feels soothed by his forgiveness, the return of his exasperating worry for her.

She squeezes his hand, tries to push back on the emotions whirling around in her. It's likely all going to end soon for her, makes getting stitches seem rather pointless in context. Yet being alone with him in the medical room gives her an opening, one she thinks on for a very long moment.

Jane looks at Weller, feels her stomach tumble. The doctor is bound to walk in any minute now, this may be the last chance she gets.

She takes a deep breath, blows it out nervously. Grips his hand a little more tightly than is comfortable.

"Kurt," she starts, biting her lip anxiously. "If I don't make it, I want you to know…"

"Shhhh," Weller interjects, looks at her sternly. "Don't say that."

Jane is about to start arguing, a 'no' halfway out her lips when she sees the expression of desperate panic on his face, manages to silence her objection before it fully escapes.

"Good," he breathes in relief when she stops trying to tell him her ridiculously obvious truth. That she's always loved him, that she's so sorry for everything she did.

"You can tell me some other time," Kurt continues, as if to reassure himself. "Okay?"

"Okay," Jane squeaks, still unable to process his worry for her life, even at a risk to his own. But willing to give in if it takes that look of fear off his face.

Kurt brings her hand up to his chest, makes her close her eyes in remembrance. Don't ever forget this, she tells herself.

The door to the medical room opens just then, jars her back to the present.

The doctor steps in slowly, giving them time to awkwardly separate. Weller stands up, thanks the doc for coming in early, tells him that she needs stitches.

Jane sighs but lets the doctor peel off all her dressings, take a good look at the cut. It's sore, but still not that serious in her eyes. However, she can tell from the intense frown on Weller's face that he doesn't feel the same, and he nods emphatically when the doctor confirms that it needs to immediately be irrigated and sutured.

"How long is this going to take?" Jane sighs, resigned to her fate.

"You should be done in about a half an hour," the doctor replies.

It's annoying that Weller was right, even more so that he's wearing that smug protective look. But she doesn't resist when he steps to her, puts his hands on her shoulders and lightly squeezes while smiling at her fondly.

"Rest up, let the doc take care of you," he commands softly. "I'll see you upstairs in thirty minutes."

"Yes, Kurt," she intones, rolling her eyes at him as he gives her a little smirk, then finally leaves the medical room.

Its not until he's long gone that Jane allows herself to grin to herself, picture the exact blue glint of his eyes when he's exceptionally concerned. Yes, she'd forgotten how overbearing he could be, how much it could grate. Yet it was well worth it to know how much he still cares, that she hasn't completely broken this thing between them.


	10. Chapter 10

Five words.

If I don't make it.

He never wants to hear them again.

It's been plaguing him for nearly an hour now, or so the clock tells him. It feels like it's been eons though, the seconds shuffling by in slow motion.

Weller tries to turn his attention back to his team, work on the invisible security measures they're going to take. Patterson is explaining the details of the nearly untraceable tracker she wants to implant in his skin, trying to convince him that it is worth it despite the tiny risk of Roman having the ultra sophisticated scanner required to sense it.

Kurt sighs, hates having everyone so worried about him. Jane especially. Just thinking about her trying to sacrifice herself to ensure his safety makes his shoulders rise, his neck stiffen.

It's not even seven am and he's already lost his mind several times that morning, is at risk of losing his life that evening if he can't get his head on straight.

Weller snaps back to the present, realizes Patterson's ceased talking at him and is waiting for a response that he hasn't managed to formulate. Dammit, he thinks. The threat is real, likely even. He certainly doesn't want to put himself into the hands of Jane's sociopathic brother, grinds his teeth thinking of the cut he put in her, the way she described his agitated behaviour. But he also remembers Jane telling them about the scanner Sandstorm ran all over her, knows how close it had been. He can't risk it, not with Roman so on edge.

"No tracker," he mutters. "There's got to be another way."

Patterson groans, gives him a frustrated look.

"Weller, be reasonable," she argues. "You've already vetoed a perimeter cam, extra surveillance, or anything that will be able to spot him coming. If you're determined to let him get that close then there's a good chance he's going to be able to abduct you."

"So he abducts me then," Weller shrugs. "We just need a way to get me back that doesn't require us having inside knowledge about his attack."

He feels the team collectively sigh and roll their eyes at his stubbornness, looks around to see them all staring at him in varying shades of disbelief.

"Letting Roman take you is not a very good plan," Reade comments dryly.

"Then come up with something better," Kurt scowls. "You all know the parameters."

As soon as it comes out of his mouth he recognizes that he needs to walk away before pissing them all off even more. They've been there since five am, working to keep him safe. He can't freak out at them for being more concerned about his security than Jane's.

Weller looks at his watch, notes once more that the object of his anxiety should have been back awhile ago. It's enough to make his neck tense up again, his jaw set stiffly.

"I'm going to check on Jane," he grunts, deliberately avoiding the judging eyes of his team as he heads towards the elevator.

He wonders if something happened while she was getting stitched up, hopes she just decided to stay and rest afterwards. From what he could see, she'd taken some solid hits in her fight with Roman, could have a concussion. So it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for her to not feel well, need some sleep.

Well, except it was Jane, extraordinary in every way. And the likelihood that she's sleeping off a headache while there's work to be done is extremely low. Which is why Weller isn't surprised at all to find the doctor alone in the medical room when he gets there, Jane having left forty-five minutes ago.

Sometimes he thinks she came into his life just to drive him crazy.

Weller storms back up to SIOC, absolutely fuming. She had nearly an hour head start on them, could easily have completely disappeared already. He can't even begin to consider what the hell she thinks she's going to do, has to just believe he's going to track her down before she does something rash.

"Jane's gone," he announces, as soon as he steps out of the elevator. "Patterson, pull up the security footage from about forty minutes ago at the medical unit. We need to follow her movements through the building, maybe we can get a clue where she's gone to."

Patterson fires up the video and they watch as Jane leaves the medical room, goes directly to the armoury. Which she shouldn't have access to alone but of course she gets in anyways.

Weller groans as he watches her load up on an assortment of weapons, extra ammo. She looks incredibly determined and deadly, which he usually quite likes. But not now, when she's going to do something stupid.

The security cameras end with Jane heading out of the building with her mini-armoury in a duffle bag, getting into a cab. No other clues, nothing to indicate where she might have gone.

Kurt resists his desire to curse, wracks his brain for anything he could have missed earlier on to indicate what she was going to do. He had never really thought about where she would run to. Which was dumb, short-sighted of him.

"Wait, Weller!" Patterson exclaims. "She just left me a message. And her phone's still on! I'm tracking her location, it should be up within a minute."

"What does the message say?" Weller demands, the nervous pit in his gut churning riotously. He has to know. Though a large part of him doesn't want to hear it, wonders why it wasn't for him.

Patterson finishes listening to the message, has the entire team staring at her with anticipation. She's wearing her 'I've got bad news' expression, twists her hands nervously.

"C'mon Patterson, out with it," Zapata exclaims impatiently, saying what Weller is thinking in his head. He usually has a lot of patience for his resident genius but he needs to know what Jane said and then get moving on intercepting her.

"Play it. Now," Kurt demands in his 'I'm the boss' voice.

Patterson sighs, presses play. Jane's voice fills the room, he can hear her trying to keep her emotions under control, stay steady.

"Patterson. By the time you get this you'll know what I've done and you won't be able to find me. You guys must understand, I know how much Kurt means to the team. This is all I can give you to make up for everything I did, all the hurt I caused. Please take care of him. Tell him… tell him he knows what I was going to say."

It's tough, sincere, heart-breaking, brave, full of love and despair. Every word she says reminds him of who she is, why he goddamned feels this way about her.

There's a stunned silence when the message is over, a finality he's not willing to accept. Patterson's blinking away a tear and even Zapata looks away, dabs quickly at her right eye.

"Send her location to my phone, I'm going to get her," Weller states.

"Bad idea Weller," Reade says, stepping in his way. "Look all that's happened so far is Jane left here with a bag. Even if Roman is watching, nothing really suspicious has happened yet. But if you go running after her, it's going to be pretty obvious something is going on."

There's clearly sense to what Reade is saying, that chasing after Jane is the last thing he should be doing at this moment. But his rational mind doesn't function well when she's in danger,

"Well. I hope he's not watching, because otherwise, we're all screwed," he declares.

"Weller," Patterson groans. "You heard what she said, you should definitely not go out there. We'll get her back another way. Her phone's still on, maybe you can talk her back in."

"She didn't call me for a reason," Kurt replies. "If I call her she might ditch her phone and we'll lose all chance of finding her."

"You don't know that," Reade argues. "She obviously still cares about you, Kurt. You should stay and make the call, keep her on the line. Zapata and I will go get her."

It's times like these when he's glad he's in charge. That when it comes down to it, they all have to do what he says, despite their personal feelings on the matter. He doesn't usually run his team this way, is normally all for the collaborative approach.

But not when it came to Jane.

"Patterson, you make the call, do your best to calm her down, get her to listen to reason," Weller states firmly, using his no nonsense tone again. "Reade, Zapata, keep on coming up with possible plans for tonight."

"Now send me Jane's location. I'm going to get her."

Weller storms into the elevator, feels everyone's disapproving gazes on his back. Pretends not to hear Zapata comment to Reade about how Jane's probably going to blow things up long before tonight. He does turn around and glare at her though, mentally wills it not to be true.

Losing Jane is not an option. He won't even entertain the thought.

Kurt gets in a SUV, starts breaking all the traffic laws.


	11. Chapter 11

Kurt's been gone fifteen minutes when Jane starts to panic again. She's watching the doctor suture the knife wound in her side when suddenly she flashes back to Roman waving the switchblade at her, telling her how he was going to stick it into Weller.

Dammit, she thinks. Tries to push away the anxiety with deep breaths, a steel mind. Tell herself that the stitches are nearly done, that she will soon be back in SIOC helping them come up with a plan to keep Kurt safe.

But the thing is she knows him, understands exactly how stubborn he's going to be about this. There will be no tracker invisible enough, no detail covert enough to satisfy his standards. He won't take enough precautions, no matter what she says. And whatever plan they come up with won't involve her, in order to keep her 'safe'. When she is never safe, doesn't even deserve to be. Not after setting this all up as Remi, then being so naively complicit once ZIP-ped.

This is all running through Jane's head as she nods along to the doctor giving her aftercare instructions, telling her to take it easy for the next few days. She thinks she manages to maintain an outwardly calm demeanour but her level of anxiety is off the charts. She just keeps thinking about the frustration of arguing with Kurt about his safety, how it never gets anywhere because he's the one in charge.

Suddenly Jane knows what to do, a barebones idea coming together in an instant. It's not much, can barely be called a plan but it will have to suffice. She leaves the medical clinic and heads straight for the armoury, sneaks her way in with the help of an all-access card and code she'd acquired for an emergency situation. In her mind there was no doubt that this was a code red, time to pull out all the stops.

Jane stocks up with weapons and ammo, grabs a few grenades and some bomb-making supplies for good measure. Throws it all into a duffel bag and hauls it over her shoulder as she exits the room, then heads out of the building and straight into a cab.

She directs the cab to a location uptown, just needs to get clear of the NYO, come up with an actual strategy. She has only vague ideas on how to find Roman before he gets to Kurt. At worst she will just have to wait outside of Weller's place later on, catch Roman then. But preferably she can find him beforehand, not even give him a chance to get near Kurt.

Kurt.

She groans internally just thinking about him. He's going to be so angry when he realizes she's gone, that she didn't trust him enough to work with him on a solution.

Jane takes her phone out of her pocket and stares at it, knows she's going to have to ditch it soon if she doesn't want Patterson to track her. But she figures she still has some time before they realize she's gone and she needs it for one more message before she disappears for real. So Jane puts her phone away for the moment, sorts through what she wants to say.

No tears, she tells herself. No self-pity. You chose this for yourself. You're doing this for Kurt, for the team, even if they're not yours anymore.

The cab drops her off at the edge of Central Park, not all that far from where she'd started this new existence in a duffel bag much like the one full of weapons on her shoulder. Jane wonders for a moment where it will all end, if it's going to be as soon as it seems.

She steps into the park, sits on a bench near a pond. It's time to get rid of her phone, become untraceable. But first she has a message to send, has even figured out how to directly get it into Patterson's voicemail. There's no way she can talk to any of them right now, especially Weller. Not that it would break her resolve. But it would break her heart.

Jane stares at her phone for a long moment, tries to put it all together in her head. Everything she wants to say to the team, her once and only friends.

She dials the number, bites her lip as it goes through to Patterson's voicemail, tells her to start recording.

Her message is short but thorough, all she can manage to get through without tears. Though her voice hitches when she gets to the part meant for Kurt, pictures him hearing her words.

She presses end, hopes it didn't sound too pathetic. Really she's not much scared of death, hasn't has much to live for lately. But she's emotional thinking about Kurt, how much she still loves him, how badly he's going to take this. Thankfully he has his team to support him, get him through this situation. She has no doubt that they will talk some sense into him, will certainly see her side of things. She can't let Weller do something that jeopardizes his safety.

Jane takes a deep breath, bites down hard on all her worry. Forces herself to stand up, walk over to the nearby pond.

It's still relatively quiet, no one around to see her take out her phone, stare at it blankly. Once she drops it in the water there will be no going back. No more NYO, no more team. No last moment with Kurt, no more stolen kisses.

Shit. She had told herself she wasn't going to do this, that she was ready for her fate. She had made up with Weller, now had the chance to set things straight. It was the right thing to do, her only choice.

Jane glares at her phone, at the hand that won't throw it in. Gives into temptation and presses in her fingerprint, flips to her guilty secret.

It's just a casual photo from a lifetime ago, pizza and beer at her safehouse, back when she'd just started feeling like she fit in, was a part of the team. Of course it's her and Kurt, loose and easy, laughing as he wipes tomato sauce off her face.

She doesn't know who took the photo but it had been her favourite before it disappeared from her life along with all her other possessions. Not that she would have wanted it in the black site, this fleeting memory from a false life.

Jane had forgotten about it entirely after three months of hell followed by life as a pariah. Until it had been sent to her again, this time by the most unlikely candidate, Kurt's on-again, off-again girlfriend/future baby mama. The text that accompanied the photo had read 'Thanks for saving me and our kid. Just so you know, he still keeps this on his phone.'

Jane stares at the picture, tries to push back her tears. She hadn't quite believed it at first, that Weller had kept it on purpose. But his behaviour towards her the past little while has reminded her of how things used to be. Which only makes everything harder for her now, saying her silent goodbye to photo Kurt, biting her lip at how much she wants to kiss real Kurt one more time.

She doesn't have time for this, to be so sentimental. Yet she's still gazing at her phone, can't quite toss it away despite the danger it poses to her plan.

Jane wages silent battle with her regret, tries to call up the steel will she had earlier. Reminds herself how much danger Weller is in, what Roman had threatened. That this is her way to atone for her sins.

She glares at her traitorous hand, the phone that refuses to be abandoned.

'Do it now,' she tells herself, with as much force as she can muster.

With a final angry exhale, she tosses the phone, watches as it arcs upward for a moment, then starts ringing as it drops towards the water.

Shit, she thinks, with a split second to act. Her reflexes reach for the phone even as her rational mind kicks in, tells her she'd been getting rid of it for exactly that reason.

Jane snatches the phone just before it hits the water, nearly tumbles into the pond herself but manages to catch her footing right at the edge. She takes two breaths, then turns to look at the caller, is surprised to find it's Patterson and not Weller.

'Idiot' she thinks to herself even as she presses talk. If only she'd tossed the phone a minute sooner instead of mooning over the past. She can't let Patterson talk her out of her mission, shouldn't even be giving her the chance. Especially since they'll be tracing her, are probably already on their way.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad you answered," Patterson hollers, using her most frantic voice. "Please don't hang up, Jane. Please. I need to talk to you."

Jane mentally cringes, doesn't have it in her to hang up on Patterson when she sounds so desperate. Patterson, who had always gone out of her way to be kind, even after she'd been exposed as a liar, the reason for Mayfair's death. Patterson, who's always saving them in the nick of time, who never gives up on them.

"Ugh," Jane sighs. "Okay, you have a minute before I toss my phone. And don't put Kurt on, I can't talk to him."

"Yeah well you're right about that, you can't talk to him because he's already on his way there, probably running red lights as we speak," Patterson replies.

"What?" Jane cries, dismayed. "Roman will be watching him, he can't come here! That was the whole point, you guys were supposed to make him see sense. I have to go, before he gets here."

"No!" Patterson exclaims. "You don't understand, Jane. Weller isn't going to stop until he finds you or Roman gets to him."

"He's being ridiculous!" Jane snaps, all her anxiety firing full tilt yet again. "You have to get him to turn around."

"The only way he's going to turn around is if you come back in," Patterson states.

"We don't have time for this," Jane groans. Why hadn't she just ditched her phone instead of staring at the past? She'd be long gone, and Weller would have nothing to chase.

"Yeah, well you try telling him that when you're in danger. You don't know what it's like. There is no stopping Weller when he's worried about you."

Jane feels bad that she makes him worry, feels worse because she loves it too. That she brings out the irrational in usually stoic Weller.

She berates herself for all her mistakes. Loving him too much, trying to hang on. Not considering how unrelentingly determined Kurt can be.

Way to screw everything up yet again, she thinks to herself.

"You can't do this to him. You can't do this to us," Patterson continues. "I don't think he'd ever recover if you sacrifice yourself for him. He would be crushed, the team would never survive this."

Now she's gone too far, Jane thinks. It was realistic until then, true to a degree. She knows that Kurt cares, he'd certainly shown that the past little while. She imagines he will be upset but carry on. He seemed to manage fine when she disappeared into the black site, had gotten on without knowing what became of her.

"Patterson, stop it," she mutters. "That's not true anymore, if it ever was. It was all based on a lie."

"Jane, you know him," Patterson replies. "He has felt guilty about Taylor since he was ten years old. Everyone can see how he feels about you. He's never going to forgive himself if you do this."

Damn Patterson and her irritatingly rational arguments. These are all things she had come up with too but had been trying not to think about. That Kurt would waste his time trying to find her. That she was just putting him in more danger, making him worried about her instead of looking out for himself. That he would blame himself for all of it, never let it go.

Or maybe that's why she'd looked at that photo so long, held onto her phone. To be reminded of the facts, all the things her own emotions were drowning out. In her panic she had glossed over some key variables, mainly Weller's tendency to irrational reactions when it came to her.

"So please. Come back. I even have a plan to make it look like a sting op if Roman's been watching. All you need to do is leave the duffle under one of the benches and we'll have an agent pick it up then get taken down by the rest of the team. But you need to move now and keep your phone on you so I know you're on your way in," Patterson pleads.

Shit, I really screwed up yet again, Jane thinks. Everyone's been wasting their time on this when they should be figuring out a way to keep Weller safe. She still feels that little inkling to just throw her phone in the water, take the weapons and flee. Not have to face all her mistakes, try to do everything on her own.

But she forces herself to think it through, remember that Kurt spent twenty-five years looking for a dead girl. She knows Patterson is right, that he won't let this go. That he will fruitlessly chase her straight into danger and she will have yet another fuck up to atone for.

Jane makes an angry defeated sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, breathes irritably into the phone.

"Okay," she grumbles, wincing at her own acquiescence. "I'm leaving the bag here and catching a cab back to the office."

Patterson sighs one of those 'oh my god you're alive' sighs, the sound of utter relief.

Shit, Jane thinks again. She hadn't meant to make everyone so worried, had honestly thought they'd be relieved to have her deal with the Roman problem, to no longer have to deal with their traitorous former teammate.

Again she has the urge to run, has to bite down on it hard. Tells herself she's been doing this all for Kurt, that going back is the only logical choice even if it includes having to face him and find out how upset he is.


	12. Chapter 12

The last time he was this angry he had just found out that his father was a murderer, that the love of his life was a liar.

Weller is at full rage when he exits the elevator, knows he has no hope of controlling himself when he sees her. He's going to lose it and yell, release a torrent of worry masquerading as fury. He can't contain it, doesn't even see the point of trying.

He can't believe she would do this to him after the past two days, everything he's been trying to tell her. She had goddamned promised to work together with him on a plan, to not run off on a suicide mission. Had she not heard a word he said?

For a moment he remembers he was just done being angry with her, had finally gotten over it. But that was before she started being incredibly obstinate and irrational, absolutely crushing his heart.

Weller looks around SIOC, makes eye contact with an anxious looking Patterson. She nods towards his office with a wide-eyed expression, obviously nervous about the scene that's about to occur.

Kurt takes five deep breaths that don't do anything to dislodge the heat in his chest.

Screw it, he thinks, she's going to take this full on.

Jane's sitting slumped one of the chairs, facing away from him when he enters the office. Her head is down at her chest, she doesn't bother to look up at the sound of him entering. Instead she hugs herself tighter, avoids eye contact as he walks over to stand behind his desk, turns to face her.

Just looking at her and thinking about what she'd been planning to do lights up every panic pathway in his nervous system. Kurt slams his palms down on his desk, hard enough it stings. Jane finally looks up, her expression somewhere between defensive and defeated.

"What were you thinking?" he bellows at her, using his best dressing-down voice. "We agreed you wouldn't do this!"

"I agreed to get stitches and then come up with a plan," Jane mutters.

"Together!" he explodes. "And not one where you end up dead. I thought I made that clear but obviously not. I'm starting to think you want to die."

"Don't be ridiculous, Kurt," Jane groans, as if she hasn't been acting increasingly recklessly since her return.

"How is that ridiculous? Look at the way you've been acting Jane," Weller fumes. "What else can I think when you put yourself at risk over and over again? How can I trust you when I leave you alone for an hour and you run off on a goddamned suicide mission?

"How can I trust you to care enough about yourself when you come chasing after me with Roman watching?" she retorts. "That was stupid, Weller."

"You didn't leave me any choice!" he hollers. "I told you, I can't think straight when you're in danger."

"Do you think you're the only one?" she fires back. "I was so worried about you that I wasn't thinking clearly. I know you're not going to take enough precautions, that it's because of me. How do you think that makes me feel? I told you, Kurt. I can't take it if something happens to you."

Dammit. She wasn't wrong. She had told him, he just hadn't considered how absurdly stubborn she can be. That she'd be so blind as to think he could just go on with her death on his conscience, that he wouldn't be absolutely devastated, useless to anyone.

"That is exactly my point, Jane!" he shouts. "Right now, the worst thing that could happen to me is losing you in all this. How can you not see that?"

"Because you shouldn't care about me anymore, Kurt. The secret's out, I'm a terrorist and a screw up, I hurt everyone I touch. How can you not see that?" she flings right back at him.

"How can you still think that?" he grunts. "You've saved so many lives. You risk yourself every day."

"Mayfair is dead because of me. Your life is at risk because of me. And we're wasting time yelling about this instead of coming up with a plan because of me," she storms. "I know I screwed up, Kurt. I panicked and I'm sorry."

She doesn't sound particularly apologetic, still has a defiant note in her tone. It makes him both furious and inappropriately turned on. Keep it together Weller, he tells himself. He needs to resolve this situation with Jane so they can come up with a plan to deal with Roman.

"You're right," he states. "We're wasting time. I want to trust you, Jane. I don't want to be angry anymore. But you've been making it really hard."

Jane raises her eyebrows, bites her lower lip. Somehow manages to express regret, amusement, and boldness all at once.

"I know," she admits. "I really am sorry."

This time she sounds sincere, looks up at him with a sigh.

"You still shouldn't have chased me though. You could have sent anyone else."

"Yeah, that was not my most objective moment," Weller concedes. "Good thing Patterson came up with something to smooth it all over."

Jane groans, closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"I can't believe I wasted so much of everyone's time," she mutters. "They must all be mad at me too."

Kurt exhales, makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Yes, they had wasted time. But she had revealed herself too. Now they all remember exactly how selfless she could be.

"We all heard your message, Jane," he says. "They're not angry with you. You tried to do a very stupid, noble thing. Everyone would want a teammate like you."

Jane looks a little abashed, is clearly thinking about the message she left Patterson. Weller suddenly realizes he doesn't want her to talk about it, that it goes into territory he can't open up at the moment.

"So are you done making me chase you around New York or do I have to put you in a holding cell?" he asks, only half kidding.

"I'm done," Jane states tiredly. "I mean it, Kurt. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking rationally. I'm just so worried he's going to hurt you. It's making me a little crazy."

"Well. Now you know what it's like to be me," he grumbles.

Kurt shakes his head at her, at all her incorrigible bravery. His Jane. Deep down he still thinks of her that way even though she's not his, never was. Either way, he's lost that right. Is sleeping with someone else, should definitely not love her.

He walks around his desk, offers her his hand.

Jane still looks anxious but there's a glint in her eye too, just a hint of rueful smile. She grasps his hand tightly, lets him pull her to her feet.

He should let go, step back. The green of her eyes is magnetic though, he can't break the contact. It's like he's compelled to speak, has to make sure she understands.

"You are an incredible person, Jane. You might doubt yourself but I know who you are," he declares. "And I think it's pretty clear how I feel about you."

He gets a worried smile for that, a look so endearing it makes him grin in return. Despite how angry he'd just been, how much there was still to deal with.

"You're being so unreasonable," Jane mutters, shaking her head.

Kurt laughs at the irony of Jane calling him unreasonable, grasps her hand tightly and brings it up to his lips, plants a kiss on the knuckle of her thumb.

Yes, yes I am, he thinks to himself. But then again when had he ever been reasonable about Jane?


	13. Chapter 13

Jane sits alone in her safe house feeling extremely agitated as she tries to convince herself that pacing won't help, that there's nothing she can do other than wait with everyone else. What really bothers her is the fact that she's stuck there even if something happens and everyone else gets activated. But she had promised Weller that she wouldn't leave the safe house no matter what; it was the deal she had struck to at least be on comms with them, get to know what's happening.

At the moment it's all quiet, the evening dragging on agonizingly slowly. Weller had gone home from the office at his regular late hour and then Patterson had talked him through setting up an invisible trip wire alarm on his front door. So now that he was inside his apartment the alarm would trigger if anything went through the door, immediately setting off the protocol to stop Roman, get Weller back.

Jane hates all of it, knows it won't be enough. Roman is unpredictable and resourceful, will probably try and flush Weller out of the building instead of going in himself. She had said as much while they'd been planning but of course Kurt hadn't considered it enough for her liking.

So here she is, grinding her teeth painfully, sure that something is going to go wrong with the plan. Unable to do anything but sit and stare blankly at the wall while listening to Patterson tabs on the rest of the team.

Jane pulls out her phone to distract herself and finds herself staring at her favourite photo again, the one that had screwed up all her plans to take out Roman before he got to Weller. She still half regrets not having gone through with it, even though she knows that Patterson was right, that it would have been a horrendous thing to do to Kurt. Also counterproductive for everyone, preventing them from dealing with more important things.

Still, right now it feels like the better option. One with some action at least, where she has a measure of control over the outcome. Instead of just twiddling her thumbs, relying on everyone else to keep Weller safe.

Though she has to admit, there's a lot more appeal to living since things had shifted between her and Kurt. Not that she had ever wanted to die. But she'd been willing to, had been so desperate to prove her loyalty to them, to him. She had just never considered Weller being equally willing to show his commitment to her.

Jane stews in her anxious thoughts, fixates on her phone as she watches the minutes tick by excruciatingly slowly. Midnight comes and goes, Weller reports in that he's going to bed. Jane tries not to think about that too much, blushes to herself about the direction her mind is going. Cringes and tells herself to cool off, that Kurt's sleeping with someone else, has barely just started being kind to her again. Then reminds herself that there are much more important matters at hand than what happens in Weller's bed; mainly keeping him alive, out of Roman's hands.

With that her mind switches back to overwhelming worry, flashing back to the memory of Roman ranting angrily, waving his knife around. Jane shudders at the mental image, hugs herself tightly as she tries to push the picture out of her head. Briefly she considers going to bed as well but knows she will just lie there awake. So she sticks with huddling on the couch, trying unsuccessfully to avoid all Kurt-related thoughts.

It's just past two am and Jane is starting to yawn when her comms unit crackles with Weller's voice. He reports that there's a fire in his building, that he just heard the alarms go off and was already smelling smoke. Patterson's voice comes on right after that to confirm that the fire department had been dispatched just a minute ago.

"I'm leaving my place," Kurt declares. "I'm going to have to trip the sensor."

"That's not a good idea Weller," Patterson says. "How close is that fire to you?"

"Stay in your apartment, Weller," Reade chimes in. "He doesn't want you to burn to death, he'll have to come get you before it gets life-threatening."

Shit, Jane thinks. Of course he won't stay in his place. This is exactly what she had said would happen. So absurdly easy she wants to scream in frustration. Put Weller in an emergency and he's not going to remain vigilant about his own safety. He'll be rescuing children and old ladies, will never notice Roman sneak up in the midst of it all.

"It doesn't matter, I can't just stay here, I have to go see if anyone needs help," Kurt replies.

Jane finally finds her voice, sputters out her disapproval.

"Weller, that is exactly what Roman wants you to do," she argues. "They've researched you, remember. He knows you'll get so caught up in helping everyone else that he can grab you while you're distracted. But you still have a chance to slip away, before this goes any further. Just leave the rescuing to the firemen and get out of there now."

"I can't do that Jane," Weller answers. "There are little kids that live in this building, I have to make sure everyone makes it out of here first. And I have to ditch my comms in case I run into Roman while I'm out there."

"Fire trucks are on their way, Weller," Patterson tries. "I think Jane is right, you can probably get by Roman if you're careful and on the look out for him. Just don't get involved in running around the scene, he could be anywhere."

"Yeah, don't be stupid, Weller," Zapata adds. "Just get out of there and keep the comms on until you need to get rid of them."

"Kurt, please!" Jane pleads. "Please don't do this. It's exactly what Roman wants."

"Jane, remember you promised me you'd stay at your safe house," Weller states firmly. "Please don't leave, no matter what. I'm trusting you to keep your word."

"No, that's not fair," Jane retorts. "You promised to stay in your place too."

"I have to go," Kurt shouts. "I hear screaming."

"Kurt!" Jane yells. "Please just get out of there."

When there's no answer it's clear that he's gone, especially when Patterson sighs and reports that the alarm at Weller's front door has been triggered from the inside.

Jane groans, holds her head in frustration. He is so goddamned stubborn. And still she can't help but admire him for his bullheadedness, his selflessness.

"Jane? Are you there?" Patterson asks, her voice frantic. "Jane, I know what you're probably planning but please stay at your safe house. We will send agents to the scene to maintain eyes on Weller and at the first sign of Roman we will close down the entire area like we planned. We're not going to let him take Weller. But we definitely can't risk Roman getting to both of you."

"Patterson, I have to go," Jane replies.

"Jane, think about it," Reade tries. "You being there can only make things worse for Weller."

The thing is, she's not thinking rationally and she knows it. She'd been rational earlier when they came up with the plan, when the risk to Kurt wasn't imminent. Had even sworn to stay at her safe house no matter what happened, to let everyone else take care of the situation. Not that she had liked the idea, but it had made sense to her at the time. If Roman saw her involved at all it would confirm his suspicions about her, likely lead to her imminent death.

But now, in the heat of the moment, there's no way she's staying home when Kurt is in danger. If there's any chance she can save him, it's worth the risk to herself.

"I can't just sit here," she declares. "And I'm leaving my comms behind too."

Jane hears the team voicing their dismay as she pulls the unit from her ear and leaves it on the coffee table. Then she arms herself quickly and calls a cab, stands there holding herself anxiously while waiting for it to arrive.

There's a small chance Patterson will have dispatched agents to stop her from getting to Kurt's but she doesn't think the lab tech would risk pitting other agents against Jane's will to protect Weller. In fact, Jane's pretty sure even Reade and Zapata would be afraid to get in her way right then.

By the time the taxi arrives Jane is completely jacked up with nervous adrenaline, blinding fear. She tries to tell herself that it's been less than ten minutes since Kurt went off comms, that she still has time to get there before Roman makes a move. But it does little to lower her heart rate, just makes her more impatient to be there already.

Because she's going to be shattered if anything happens to Kurt, is barely holding it together as it is. So losing him is not an option, not if she has any say in the matter.


	14. Chapter 14

Weller takes his comms unit out of his ear and runs out of his apartment with Jane's plea still ringing in his ear.

"Kurt, please! Please don't do this."

The chances of her staying put in her safe house are slim to none but at this point he has no other option. It's his fault the building's on fire, he has a responsibility to the other residents despite any danger to himself. Besides, he's armed and knows that he's likely to be abducted. So Weller's still confident he can stay aware enough to avoid Roman even in the middle of a fire. He just hopes Jane doesn't show up and get spotted by her brother.

Kurt runs towards the smoke, sees that the fire is coming from the other end of his building where a lot of seniors live. The hallway is already quite thick in particulate matter and he can hear a woman calling for help somewhere in the midst of it.

Weller looks around, sees a lot of people clambering towards the exits, no one suspicious. He continues running towards the screams until he figures out which apartment it's coming from, then kicks down the door.

He can't see anything through the dense wall of smoke but does hear the woman shouting for help and follows the weakening cry until he finally blindly grasps a shaking arm.

"I'm going to get you out of here, ma'am," he shouts, grasping the woman by the shoulders and trying to judge how he should handle the situation. "Can you walk or do you want me to carry you?"

The woman feels frail in his hands and he can hear her gasping for air as she tries to push herself to her feet.

Screw it, he thinks. No time for this.

"I'm going to carry you, ma'am," he states as he reaches down to pick her up in a fireman's carry.

The old woman is docile and light as he puts her over his shoulder and heads back out the door. The hallway is nearly clear of people now and hotter, more heavy with smoke and ash. Weller holds the woman with one arm, uses the other to navigate along the wall, looking for the stairway.

About two doors down from where he found the woman he hears more yelling but Weller knows he can't do anything about it until he finds the stairway and gets his first victim to safety. So he pushes on, gagging on smoke, blindly counting his steps and guessing where the stairwell should be.

Finally, he arrives at the right door and pushes through, sees that the stairwell starting to burn but still passable. The woman on his shoulder screams at the flames though, and he has to yell calming things to her while he runs through fire, lit embers flying everywhere.

About two floors down the woman stops panicking and he realizes it's because she's passed out due to smoke inhalation. Weller's not all that far from it himself as he continues to pant and suck in the ashy air. Thankfully there's only one more floor to go before they will both be breathing fresh air and he pushes on, coughing and crying until he sees the red exit sign, crashes his way through the door.

Weller chokes and sputters, tries to empty his lungs of the heavy smoke as he takes in the surroundings, sees that emergency vehicles have started to arrive. He spots five firefighters getting out of a fire engine, some other smaller fire rescue trucks arriving as well.

A firefighter runs by and he flags him down, passes the unconscious woman off to him.

"There's still people stuck in the building, I know where they are," Weller shouts as the hands the woman over. "I'm going back in."

"No, you've already inhaled too much smoke. Wait here for paramedics and let us deal with it!" the fireman shouts. "Gear and personnel are getting set up, we're about to go in."

The guy runs away before Weller can argue that there's no time to spare, that he isn't going to wait around and let people die because of him. All he can hear in his head is that other voice calling for help; Kurt knows he has to go back.

Weller is about to run back into the building when he sees another firefighter coming towards him, thinks the guy must have been sent over to help him locate the person he'd heard. So he stops and waits for the fireman to catch up so he can give him a sit-op before they ran into an inferno.

"There's someone stuck in one of the apartments on the fourth floor, east wing," he shouts as the firefighter. "Follow me."

The other man nods and Kurt turns, runs back towards the building. He hears the firefighter following close behind as they come up to back exit but before he reaches the door something sharp slams hard into him from behind.

It takes Weller half a second to realize his mistake, another half to feel the piercing pain in his shoulder.

"I wouldn't try anything," Roman warns. "There's a knife in your subclavian artery right now. And if I take it out, you'll bleed out in a matter of minutes."

"What do you want?" Weller grunts, still facing the door and wondering how he's going to turn and fight Roman without the knife getting torn out through his artery. Because he knows that Roman's right, he's in real trouble if that knife is removed right now.

"Right now, I just want to go for a ride," Roman replies. "So you're going to follow me to that truck over there."

Roman gives the knife a twitch to emphasize his demand and Weller barely manages to hold back a scream. Instead he grinds his jaw and grunts, feels the blood dripping down his back. He knows his only option at the moment is to go along with whatever Roman is asking of him, hope there's a way out later on.

So he lets himself get guided to one of the small fire rescue trucks, feels the pressure of Roman's hand on the knife in his back, threatening to push it in deeper. When Roman tells him to get in the back of the truck Kurt instinctively balks, then feels the tip of the knife dig further into him.

This time he does scream but it's lost in the emergency atmosphere, there's no one looking their way at all. Weller's vision greys for a moment as Roman pushes him into the back of the vehicle, kicks him in the small of the back for emphasis, and cuffs him to a railing.

Weller lays face down on the metal flooring, Roman's foot pinning him down to the ground. He feels Roman lean over and grab the knife that's still in his back, jiggle it around to cause some more damage.

Kurt bites back the scream but hears himself moan pathetically.

"We're going on a trip," Roman declares ominously, a whisper in his ear. "And then we're going to have a little talk."

"If you cooperate, I leave this knife in and you don't bleed to death. Do you understand?"

"Why are you doing this?" Weller sputters, even though he knows he shouldn't.

Roman pushes down on the knife, drives it through more of his flesh.

"Do you understand?" he repeats.

"Yes," Kurt groans.

"So you want me to leave the knife in?" Roman taunts.

"Yes," Weller repeats. He knows Roman is right, that he would bleed to death quickly if the blade is pulled out of him. And he can't die here due to a stupid mistake. Not when he had promised Jane that he wouldn't fall for exactly this ruse.

"Even if it costs you more pain?" Roman asks.

Weller groans again, knows that this is a key element of torture. Controlling the victim, making them beg. But he doesn't have any choice, knows that Roman is unpredictable and volatile, could easily lose it and kill him in the heat of his anger.

"Yes," he mutters, bracing himself for the knife to dig in deeper.

So when Roman's boot slams down and crushes his right hand he's as surprised and relieved as someone with a knife in his back and a shattered hand can be. Of course the hand still explodes with pain and he feels tears threaten for an instant as it throbs in time with the pain in his back. But at least the jagged edge of the knife hadn't pushed any deeper or caused much more damage to his shoulder.

"Good," Roman growls, next to his ear. "Remember you asked for this. Got to make sure that knife stays nice and deep."

This time Kurt knows exactly what's coming. Screams as the blade pushes in towards his clavicle, before mercifully passing out from the pain.


	15. Chapter 15

Jane bolts out of the cab as soon as it pulls up outside Weller's place. Firefighters are already at the scene and running everywhere, some organizing to enter the building, others using hoses to douse the fire.

She looks around for Kurt, scans the area as she makes her way around the scene. There's tons of smoke and a lot of emergency personnel around, all of which makes it hard to identify anyone from a distance. But she doesn't want to get spotted by Roman if he's still lying in wait for Weller so Jane hangs back, tries to stay away from the action.

As she's halfway around her perimeter check a familiar movement catches her eye and Jane stops to watch as a man runs out of the burning building carrying someone on his shoulder. The guy then passes the victim off to a firefighter before heading right back towards the building.

She immediately suspects that it's Weller, watches as he pauses to wait for another firefighter before they both run back towards the fire. The man in the lead definitely appears to be half dressed and moves just like Kurt. But it's the firefighter in the back that makes her panic. Because the way he moves is familiar to her too.

Jane screams but realizes she's much too far away for anyone to hear her even without all the sirens going off in the area. She starts running towards them but can see that Roman is already pushing Weller into one of the small fire rescue trucks, that she isn't going to get there in time.

Jane keeps running and pulls out her cell phone, dials Patterson.

"Close it down!" she shouts as soon as Patterson picks up. "Set up the blockades, Roman has Weller, they're already on the road."

"On it, the entire ten block radius will be shut down in two minutes," Patterson replies. "But Jane, you wait there, let the cops make the arrest."

"Roman's not going to stick around long enough to get arrested," Jane pants into the phone, still running after the truck. "And I think he's hurt Weller, it looked like Kurt was willingly going with him. I need to get to them as soon as possible. Track my phone, I'm following them now. Don't argue with me Patterson, you know I have to do this."

Patterson sighs into the phone.

"I know, just run," she agrees. "I'll send Reade and Zapata to you for backup. Get there, Jane. Weller needs you."

Jane hangs up her phone, picks up her pace. She can barely see the truck in front of her anymore, even with the extra traffic that the fire has caused. But the entire area is getting closed just ten blocks out and she has a good idea of which road Roman would take. What she doesn't want to think about is what Roman will do once he realizes he's trapped.

So instead of thinking she just runs faster, tries to breathe through the worry and the pain of sprinting a long distance. Pushes herself even harder as she sees a line of cars starting to stop ahead of her, knows she's closing in on the road block.

Jane is about two blocks away from the fire truck that Roman was driving, running down a hill towards it when she sees someone ducking out of the back of the vehicle and sneak off on foot, away from the blockade. Full blown panic sets in as she realizes Roman was in the back of the truck doing something to Kurt just before he took off. She somehow pushes her body to a new speed and still it seems to take an eternity to make it to the truck.

Her lungs are screaming as Jane climbs up to the back doors of the truck, flings them open and sees Weller lying facedown in a pool of blood.

"No no no," she repeats desperately.

Please be alive. Please be alive, she chants in her mind, to the manic beating of her own heart.

Jane rushes to him, sees that he's only half-conscious and bleeding profusely from a wound in his left shoulder. Yet still, he's gloriously alive. Even if he's breathing shallowly, clearly in a lot of distress.

"Oh my god, Kurt," she exhales, kneeling down next to him and taking off her sweater, using it to apply pressure to his wound.

"You're going to be okay. Stay awake for me please. It's really important, okay?"

Weller turns his head towards her, focuses on her with half-lidded eyes, groans as she presses down on his shoulder.

"Jane," he mumbles. "Shouldn't be here."

Tears flicker in the corners of her eyes as she briefly takes one hand off the makeshift bandage to run her thumb over his temple, along his sweat-drenched brow.

"Yeah well, you shouldn't be bleeding out," Jane replies, her voice full of panic. "So it's a damn good thing I am here."

Thankfully the pressure she's putting on the artery has already slowed the bleeding so she pushes down even harder. Weller responds with agonized grunt, a little moan that makes her shudder with sympathy.

"I know, I'm so sorry Kurt," she apologizes. "But I need to get the bleeding under control and then we're going to get you to the hospital."

"No, I'm sorry," Weller slurs, his eyes closing, his head rolling back. "I screwed up."

"No," Jane pleads, wincing as she presses both hands onto the wound as hard as she can, making Kurt yelp in pain again. "No sorries, Weller. And no closing your eyes, okay? Please. I really need you to stay with me. I'm know I'm hurting you and I'm really sorry. But you've lost a lot of blood, I need to keep the pressure on."

Weller groans his agreement and Jane stares out the open back doors of the truck, wonders if she can afford to take one hand off to call Patterson for an ETA on some help. Because Kurt is already beginning to shiver violently, is obviously going into shock. So if no one comes soon, she's going to have to come up with something creative to get them to the hospital.

Miraculously, just then she hears the squeal of another vehicle pulling up beside the truck, the sound of familiar feet approaching.

"Jane!" Zapata shouts, peering in the back doors. "Is he okay?"

"No he's not, he's lost a lot of blood and is going into shock. We need to get him to the hospital now!" Jane hollers.

"Reade's getting the truck started, do you need a hand with anything?" Tasha asks. "I'll go ahead and get them to open up the blockade so Reade can drive you right through."

"Just a handcuff key and your jacket," Jane replies. "Kurt's still cuffed to a railing in here and I need to keep him warm."

Zapata climbs in and looks at all the blood, gives Jane an extremely worried look. Carefully she frees Weller from the cuffs and covers his torso with her jacket, then grips his hand tightly for a moment.

"Weller, everything's going to be fine," Tasha states encouragingly. "You just stay awake for Jane and we're going to get you to the hospital."

Kurt tries to nod his agreement, moves his head a tiny bit just as the truck engine starts up. Zapata squeezes his hand one more time before hopping out and driving off in an SUV with lights blaring.

"You're doing so good, Kurt," Jane says, as soothingly as she can with her heart pounding in her ears. "Just stay with me. Please."

She knows the hospital is less than ten minutes away, but at the moment that feels like an eternity. She's pressing down with all her weight on Kurt's wound and still it's seeping blood, making her stomach roil with panic. And the worst part is she can see how much she's hurting him, how tense he is with pain as he floats near the edge of consciousness.

"Trying," Weller grunts softly. "For you."

Her heart aches for him, for all his suffering, for how hard he's still struggling just to stay conscious. Jane wants to hold his hand, comfort him physically but her hands are in use, holding his wound closed. So all she can do is try and talk him through it, talk herself through it as well.

"I know you are, Kurt. You're doing so good, it's going to be okay," she says.

She realizes she's repeating herself, saying useless encouraging things. But she has to keep saying it, thinking it. Because Kurt has to be all right, she won't even consider any other outcome.

Weller moans again as if to say he feels about as okay as he looks; ashen yet sweaty, all covered in blood. Then he turns his head and glances up at her, his eyes a dazed hazy blue.

"Sorry, Jane," he murmurs. "M'tired."

Oh Kurt, she thinks as he struggles to keep his eyes open before letting them blink shut again, his head starting to loll on the metal floor. She can tell he's about to pass out even though he's putting in a solid effort, his eyelids still fluttering in defiance.

"It's okay, Kurt," she says, as soothingly as she can even though she's still freaking out internally. "You can stop fighting it and rest now. We're almost at the hospital, I'll keep you safe until we're there."

Jane sees Weller relax with her words, stop struggling to keep his eyes open as soon as she gives him permission to rest. She wants to run her hands all over him, wrap him up in her arms and protect him from everything. Kiss his pale lips, ruffle her fingers through his hair. But as Kurt finally passes out all Jane can do is lean down and brush her lips against his forehead; bite down on her worry while her hands do their best to keep the rest of his blood inside of him.


	16. Chapter 16

Weller startles awake to a world of darkness and pain, shivering and confused. Despite the excruciating heat in his shoulder he tries to sit up; only to find that his right wrist is cuffed to the floor, which then brings everything flooding back all at once.

The fire, Roman, the knife protruding from the back of his left shoulder. A near future that involves probable torture and possible death.

However, as he regains his bearings, Weller realizes that the vehicle isn't moving anymore, that the jolt that brought him back to consciousness was probably the truck stopping. Which could be a good sign, maybe an indication that the plan they had come up with earlier had been put into play despite his own lack of attentiveness.

Less of a positive sign was the rear door rattling open and Roman entering the back of the truck with a pissed off look on his face. Especially since there shouldn't have been anyone close enough to have seen him get abducted earlier and call it in. Which meant that Jane had probably left her safe house and seen him get taken, that she could easily still get outted by Roman at any moment.

"Oh good, you're awake," Roman says as he approaches Weller. "DUI checkpoint. Weird time and place for one though. Seems like a pretty big coincidence to me."

Kurt cringes internally, recognizes that it's a critical moment for his continued survival, for Jane's as well. If Roman thinks she revealed his plan, then both of them were screwed. Roman would likely kill him right now, then move on to target Jane next.

"Unfortunately, that means we're both out of time," Roman states ominously. "If this is a setup then I need to go kill Jane. And if it's not, well, then this is your unlucky day."

With that Roman reaches down and drives the knife further into Kurt before pulling it all the way out. Weller muffles a scream into the floor as the serrated edge tears through his flesh again, fights to retain consciousness as he feels blood start to spill out of his shoulder.

"You should have just long enough to imagine what I'm going to do to Jane before you bleed out," Roman says, grinding his foot into the knife wound for good measure. "Just know that she'll suffer a lot longer than you did."

Weller hollers again in reaction to Roman's boot stomping on his injury, flares of agony resounding throughout his battered body. For a moment he feels his world fade, become fuzzy. But he somehow manages to tune back in as Roman jumps out of the back of the truck.

Kurt feels an instant of relief, knowing his attacker is gone for the moment. But then his mind turns to exactly what Roman had described. That knife, sticking into Jane, blood spilling all over her tattooed skin. The thought makes him try to move, get up to save both of them. But then he remembers he's attached to the truck, couldn't get out even if he wasn't currently bleeding to death.

Weller grunts, tries to calculate how many minutes he has left until there's not enough blood in his body to keep his heart pumping. Would he survive until someone at the checkpoint notices that the truck isn't moving up in the line? Unlikely. But it's his best hope now that he messed up the entire plan by playing right into Roman's hands. Because his only other hope is the one person that shouldn't be anywhere close to there.

Kurt feels the strength draining out of his body, closes his eyes and rests his head on the cold metal flooring. Again, all he can see in his mind's eye is Jane in Roman's hands and he wants to scream in anguish but doesn't even have the energy to express his desperation.

He likely only has minutes to live but the one worry that occupies his mind is her. Even as he feels the dark slide back in, Weller struggles against it. He needs to stay awake in case someone finds him and he can get a warning out to Jane, let her know that Roman's coming for her again. Even though the only person that's remotely likely to find him is Jane herself, running straight into trouble like always.

But reality slips away quickly as the blood soaks his clothing, pools underneath him. Kurt is weak and shaky, barely holding on to the edge of consciousness when he hears the back doors open again and he freezes in fear, irrationally thinking that it must be Roman returning to finish the job.

But the footsteps that enter the truck are familiar, even through the dense haze in his mind. And the voice that follows is the one he hears in his dreams. Although Jane being there right now is a nightmare, fills him with dread.

"No no no," Jane says, her voice dripping with worry.

No no no, Kurt thinks in reply. Roman is probably still out there watching and now it was Jane who would be caught unawares because of his mistake. She shouldn't be there, was supposed to be at her safe house with a full security detail. Although of course that was never going to happen.

He wants to shout out, tell her to get to safety even though it's already too late. But when Weller tries to turn his head and say something his body doesn't respond to either of those commands. All he can do is lie motionless, facedown in his own blood while she kneels down next to him and starts to press down on his wound.

"Oh my god, Kurt," she breathes into his ear. "You're going to be okay. Stay awake for me please. It's really important, okay?"

Weller tries again to turn his head towards her and this time manages to shift just a bit, open his eyes half way as the burn in his shoulder intensifies, makes him lose his breath for a moment.

"Jane," he mutters. "Shouldn't be here."

"Yeah well, you shouldn't be bleeding out," Jane replies, her voice panicked and raw. "So it's a damn good thing I am here."

Good point, Kurt thinks just as Jane pushes down even harder on his shoulder. A half grunt, half moan comes out of him, makes him wince at how pathetic he sounds. But the pressure on his wound is shooting searing pain into his every nerve ending, which makes it extremely difficult to control the noises coming out of him.

Jane apologizes as she gently runs a thumb over his forehead. Weller thinks she says something about the hospital too but all he feels is her worried touch against his brow.

She shouldn't be sorry for something that's entirely his fault. She had told him this would happen, was now in more danger because of his carelessness.

"No, I'm sorry," Weller slurs, feeling his eyes close and his head loll with the effort of speaking. "I screwed up."

"No," Jane pleads, putting more pressure onto his wound, making him yelp as another roar of pain floods his senses. "No sorries, Weller. And no closing your eyes, okay?"

Dimly Kurt hears her asking him to stay with her, does his best to comply with her request. But the cold is seeping further into him and he feels himself start to shiver uncontrollably, lose energy with every breath. Every second it's harder to force his eyes open, the grey constantly pulling at him.

Vaguely he hears Zapata's voice, worried and shouting about his condition. Weller's first instinct is to ridiculously try and argue that he's okay but he doesn't manage to get anything out. He's still struggling for words when he feels some minor relief from his wrist being released from the handcuff, his torso covered with something warm. He even feels Tasha unexpectedly take his hand and grip it reassuringly, which was not a good sign. She wouldn't be showing that kind of emotion unless he was in really bad shape.

The truth is, Weller already knows things are looking bleak for him, can see how much blood he's lost. So it's a really good thing when he feels the truck engine start to rumble, because he needs to get to the ER soon or he's not going to make it. Yet with his team there he feels a sense of comfort, knows that he will be alright.

Kurt tries to focus and nod as Zapata tells him to stay awake for Jane, then Jane herself pleads with him too. Even though he's exhausted and the idea of closing his eyes sounds incredibly inviting, he knows he can manage it for her. If Jane needs him to stay awake then he's going to do it, despite the luring call of the abyss.

"Trying," Weller grunts softly. "For you."

Jane murmurs encouraging words into his ear, her breath warm against his skin. But even through the icy shadow of shock the pain in his shoulder continues to be excruciating. Kurt moans again, knows he doesn't have much left in him.

"Sorry, Jane," he murmurs. "M'tired."

He strains to keep his eyes open for just another moment before they slam shut on him despite his effort. The wavy edges of consciousness start closing in on him and he pushes against it but try as he might, he can't keep his eyelids raised.

"It's okay, Kurt," Jane says soothingly. "You can stop fighting it and rest now. We're almost at the hospital, I'll keep you safe until we're there."

He hears her words through the haze, revels in the permission to stop struggling against the inevitable. Weller lets his eyes close, his head sink into the metal floor; feels such solace in Jane's closeness despite the pain she's inflicting on him. He should be dead, would be if she ever listened to his instructions. But instead he's secure in her hands, somehow feels completely safe as she leans over, glances her lips against his brow.


	17. Chapter 17

Jane sits, staring at blood red hands.

There's nothing to do but wait in prolonged panic, run her living nightmare through her mind over and over. She barely notices when Zapata and Reade come in and try to reassure her that Weller will be fine, is still mentally lost in a puddle of plasma.

Jane is sure that the surgery is taking longer than it should, even though she has no idea what an average would be. All she knows is she needs to see him, know for a fact that she hadn't been too late. But the doctor doesn't appear with any news, good or bad; so there's nothing any of them can do but sit there, commiserating.

Patterson shows up while they've just done a second coffee run, talks to Reade and Zapata before going to sit beside Jane.

"Jane, calm down, you saved his life," she says, matter-of-factly.

"Not if he doesn't make it out of surgery," Jane replies, feeling guilty even thinking about the possibility.

Patterson shakes her head, gives Jane a serious look.

"Weller is so stubborn, there is no way this is how he dies," she says. "That is not how the universe works."

Jane looks at Patterson in disbelief, thinks she must have heard the scientist wrong.

"That is completely illogical," she says, even though she wants to believe exactly what Patterson is suggesting.

"Yeah it is," Patterson agrees. "But it doesn't have to be logical to be true. We all knew you would get to him, that you wouldn't let Weller die."

"But you all told me not to go," Jane replies, confused.

"By now we know you and we know Weller," Patterson says. "There's no telling either of you what to do. And somehow it all works out even when both of you are making the worst decisions."

Jane sighs, doesn't want to think about the bad decisions she's made in her short remembered life.

"Roman probably stayed to watch," she says, finally voicing her other concern.

Patterson nods, a worried expression on her face. "I'd guess so."

"So I've blown my cover," Jane states grimly. "He's going to try and kill me too."

"Not if we protect you," Patterson says. "We can double your protective detail."

"That would just leave more dead agents," Jane replies. "There must be another way. Some way to keep him away from Weller too, especially while he's recovering from this."

Patterson looks skeptical but Jane has a seed of dark inspiration, formed from half memories. She's only just started to twist together the strands though when her pocket vibrates, takes her back to the present.

Jane looks at her pager, then at Patterson. The idea of leaving the hospital without knowing the result of Kurt's surgery freezes her insides. But for her plan to work at all, she has to respond immediately, confront Roman before he causes any more damage.

"I have to go," she says, exhaling worriedly. "I have to stop Roman."

"How are you going to do that?" Patterson asks, sounding extremely skeptical.

"I don't have time to explain," Jane replies. "You guys make sure they take good care of Weller. I'll be back as soon as possible."

She sounds more confident than she is, really does not know her brother very well. But she has no other play, can't let Roman terrorize them anymore. It's already almost cost her dearly, and Jane's desperate, knows she has to end this situation, one way or another.

So she forces herself from the hospital, barely remembers to stop and wash Kurt's blood off of her hands along the way. Irrationally she feels like she's deserting him, that he'll know she's left. But she keeps going, walks out of the hospital because it's the only way to protect him.

Jane follows her usual routine of evasive maneuvers on her way to the meeting spot, tries to put herself in the right frame of mind to actually do something about her Roman problem. It's going to take something she's not entirely sure she's got, yet she has to go into it with confidence, in order to properly play her role.

When she gets to the spot, Roman is already there, rhythmically flicking his bloody switchblade open then closed again. It makes Jane sick to her stomach, the thought of that knife digging into Kurt. But it also gets a rise out of her, makes her insides flare red.

Which is exactly what she needs, a little fire to get her through.

"Did you think I wouldn't stay and watch?" Roman asks, his voice dripping with anger.

"Stay and watch me save the mission, you mean?" she snaps at him derisively. "That was incredibly dumb Roman, what the hell were you thinking?"

Roman looks startled, glares at her suspiciously.

"You're a goddamned traitor. You're working for them," he spits venomously. "You saving Weller is all the proof I need."

"Me saving Weller keeps the plan intact," Jane states, gives Roman her best cold stare, the one she half-remembers from being Remi. "Me saving Weller means you don't have to explain to Shepherd why her first choice at the FBI needs to be replaced."

"Bullshit," Roman replies. "You're working for them. You're in love with him."

Jane rolls her eyes, gives Roman an irritated, incredulous look.

"You think I did this for Kurt Weller? I did it for you, you idiot. I can't remember everything but I know he's a key asset and Shepherd would be pissed as hell to find out you killed him before Phase Two happens."

Jane mentally crosses her fingers, silently prays that she's channeled enough of Remi to cow Roman a little bit, make him question his actions, her motives. There's a chance he wants his 'real' sister back so badly he will disregard his doubts, fall back into his role as the little brother.

"You're lying," Roman growls, still fidgeting with his knife. "You care about him, I saw it in your eyes, how you touched him."

The best lies are made mostly of the truth. There's no way to deny her affection for Weller but she can still misdirect Roman, make him question himself.

"Sure, okay. I care about Weller. He's a good guy and I don't want him dead. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that is how Shepherd feels about him too," Jane says assertively.

Roman continues to glare at her but she senses a change in his confidence level, a tiny hint of doubt in his otherwise cocky expression.

"Obviously a lot of time and effort went into picking Weller, I remember staking him out. I don't know Shepherd's plan for him but it has to be pretty big. Did you really want to screw that all up just for the satisfaction of stabbing him in the shoulder? Because you're mad I'm not the sister you remember? How do you think Shepherd would react to you telling her Weller is dead, that a major part of the plan was destroyed on one of your violent whims?"

Jane pauses, exhales irritably. She can see Roman thinking about what she's said, flicking his knife open and shut rhythmically. But he seems to be leaning more towards anxious than angry now, his stare more troubled, less arrogant.

It's working, she thinks. Roman is used to being controlled by his sister, his mother. She just has to play to that instinct, pull on that fear. It's what Remi would do, what he wants from her.

"I bet you were even angry enough to threaten me, use my name with Weller. Now I'm going to have to explain that too. As if it's not enough to have to prove myself to Shepherd and to the FBI every goddamned day. Now I have to cover for you as well, come up with some bullshit to explain this all to the FBI. How I just happened to be outside Weller's place when he was attacked and abducted by an assailant from this organization I'm not supposed to know anything about."

Jane forces herself to not flinch at the memory of running herself ragged, finding him in a pool of blood. She can't think about Kurt right now, the crushing weight of his fate too much to bear emotionally while playing this part with her brother.

Roman seems to be teetering on the edge of belief. She just has to reel him in with what he wants. His heartless manipulative bitch of a sister.

"You can figure out how to explain this all to Shepherd, I'm sure she'll understand why we're losing time while Weller recovers from this pointless attack," she sneers. "You just better hope he doesn't remember much of your conversation, you're lucky he was pretty out of it. I didn't actually think you'd do something this stupid. It's a good thing I decided to watch out for you at Weller's just in case."

"Don't call me stupid," Roman flares at her, his first words in a long time.

"It was stupid," Jane states firmly. "And now I have to clean things up because of you. Why do I get the feeling this isn't the first time?"

Roman stops flicking the knife, leaves it open while considering her accusations. Jane can tell she's hit a sore spot, that her intuition was correct. Remi looked out for Roman, dealt with his messes. But she was also harsh in her judgments, would put him in his place.

Remi would disdain his weakness, giving into his paranoia. Jane is just afraid, both for him and of him. But mostly for Kurt, the sight of his blood still on Roman's knife eating into her.

She has to get this over with, one way or another. There's a gun in her waistband but that's a last resort. If she kills Roman now the consequences could be far reaching. She would be dead shortly, of course. But that was acceptable, her likely fate anyhow. The bigger question was an unknown; with the FBI infiltration plan destroyed, would Shepherd kill Weller too? Definitely if she thought he had any information on her or Sandstorm. Which made it too much of a risk.

So Jane just stands there, facing off with her brother. Mentally willing him off his much-too-valid paranoid ledge.

"Fuck you, Jane. Stop screwing with my head," Roman snaps.

"Well, stop screwing with my plan, Roman," Jane fires back. "Now are you going to let me to so I can go make a show being worried about Weller? I told them I needed to get some air, go home and clean up. If I'm gone too much longer they're going to get suspicious. There's already enough questions about why I was outside his place in the middle of the night."

"That's bullshit, you told them, that's why there was a fucking roadblock," Roman argues irritably.

"That roadblock saved your ass," Jane replies. "Shepherd is already going to lose her shit at what you've done. You think I'm a traitor? Let Shepherd deal with it. Don't sabotage everything because of a temper tantrum. It was stupid and you're lucky I was there to fix it for you."

"I told you, don't call me stupid!" Roman roars, stepping towards her with the knife out menacingly.

"Then stop acting like a child, Roman," Jane snaps. "I'm leaving now. You can figure out what to say to Shepherd."

With that she turns from her irate brother and walks away, waiting for a knife in her back.


	18. Chapter 18

Weller feels the world fade in slowly. It's dark but there's noise, a persistent sound he instinctively dislikes. He tries to remember what happened, make sense of his situation. The last thing he recalls is a lot of pain, being worried about Jane.

Jane. Roman. A knife in his back. That snaps him to the present, the sinking yet safe feeling of realizing he's in the hospital again. Still, it's a lot better than the alternative of bleeding to death due to his own mistake.

Kurt groans internally, tries to force his eyes open. He's just started to hear voices, nothing specific but in tones that are familiar to him, the audio profile of his team. It's almost like zoning out during one of Patterson's explanations, hearing everyone's voices float on top of each other.

But there's something missing, the sound is incomplete in a way that gnaws at him, pushes him towards the surface. Despite the weakness that pervades him, the heaviness of his body.

Jane.

He needs to see her, know that she's okay. Even in his hazy consciousness he knows that Roman probably stayed to watch her save him, that she risked herself for him yet again. Which pisses him off immensely, but has to be put aside for the moment, at least until her safety is confirmed.

Weller pries his eyes open, just a sliver. Then another try, manages to see a blur of colour before his eyelids fall shut again.

He hears Patterson, saying she saw him open his eyes and he knows he has to try harder, push through the weight in his head. Kurt raises his eyelids again and this time they're there, more than just a blur. Patterson, Tasha, Reade, Nas.

"Kurt, can you hear me?" Nas asks, grabbing onto his hand.

Weller nods a tiny bit and tries to talk but his vocal chords are raw and dusty. Patterson must see what the problem is because she gets a cup and a straw, offers him water.

Kurt remembers to sip it slowly, has learned that lesson before a few times. Even though he's already worked himself up, is desperate to voice his too obvious question.

"Where's Jane?" he sputters out, his throat still gritty from the smoke inhalation.

He can focus well enough to see the exchange of side glances between them all, feel the rise in nervous tension. They're obviously all playing silent 'not it' on telling him something really bad and he's about to completely lose it. He feels his breath quicken as worst case scenarios float through his head.

How long had he been out before they arrived at the hospital? It couldn't have been more than five minutes. What could have happened that they are all afraid to say?

Finally, Tasha steps up, gives him a sympathetic look. Which is a really bad sign, to get that kind of expression out of her.

"Jane went to meet with Roman," she says. "He called her in. But she said she had a plan."

His insides seize as the entire day tumbles through his mind, maybe the longest one of his life. Jane showing up bleeding then running off on a suicide mission. She had a plan then too, a terrible one.

"How long ago?" Weller asks, his blood pressure ramping up visibly on the monitor attached to him.

"Four hours," Patterson answers. "Settle down, Weller. You're not even supposed to be awake yet."

Four hours. Weller tells himself that she's usually gone much longer when she sees Roman, that he often arranges to meet her in distant locations. That it can often take her hours just to get to a place, especially with all the precautions she takes.

But it does nothing to quell his anxiety, make him wonder what could have happened. So many disastrous things that he can't think about any of it.

Kurt briefly shuts the panic out of his mind by forcing his brain to execute a mental scan of his body. Obviously they had closed up the knife wound, his left shoulder now swathed in bandaging and immobilized. He couldn't really feel much pain there yet, though that was clearly due to lingering anaesthetic. Weller knows from experience how much a healing knife wound hurts, what his future holds.

He also finds his right hand half-encased in a cast, which is a bit of a surprise. He hadn't quite remembered that part immediately though now he can picture it clearly. Roman exerting psychopathic dominance by crushing his hand, then plunging the knife further into his back.

Weller winces at the memory, feels his stomach recoil. Roman had managed to inflict a lot of pain in a short amount of time. Kurt recalls how pathetic he had felt and sounded after Jane arrived, groans to himself at the thought.

She had saved his life after he'd done exactly what she'd warned him against. Losing track of the situation, getting caught up in rescuing old ladies. And now she was out there alone, again.

He can't bear the thought of it. What Roman could be doing to her, what she had planned. He has to do something about it, find her somehow.

The first step of which is to extract himself from his hospital bed, despite how irrational it sounds, especially with his team there to stop him. But he has to try, starts by pulling out his IV, which of course attracts everyone's attention.

"Kurt, what do you think you're doing?"

"Weller, what the hell?"

"That is a seriously bad idea, Weller."

"You're being such an idiot right now."

He reaches to throw off the blanket, tries to spin his legs out of bed. But everything feels slow, on a lag. And then a hand pushes his torso back against the bed, makes him shout in agony.

"Lay down, Kurt. Before you hurt yourself worse," Nas says, unapologetically. "You're in no condition to go anywhere."

"Yeah, what were you going to do anyways? Find Roman and bleed on him?" Zapata adds sarcastically.

Weller knows that they're right but he desperately does not want to accept it. He can't just lie there knowing that Jane is in danger, despite the very real fact that he can't do anything about it. He's already going crazy and has only been conscious for fifteen minutes.

"There's got to be something we can do," he states. "We have to find her."

"All we can do is trust her, Weller," Patterson says. "Jane said she had a plan."

"She had a plan this afternoon that was going to end up with her dead!" Weller argues.

"Weller, calm down. Your heart rate and blood pressure are starting to spike," Patterson replies, her voice edged with worry.

"I can't calm down," Kurt sputters. "Anything could be happening to her right now."

"Jane can take care of herself," Reade tries.

Of course she can, Weller thinks. She only has herself to rely on. It's why he needs to get out of that bed, get moving on finding her.

He tries to push himself up once again and the machine starts to emit a frantic noise. Kurt attempts to solve this by removing the sensor from his finger but Nas easily swats away his attempt and this time it's Patterson who staples him to back to the mattress with her hand, glaring at him in exasperation.

Weller feels the tension inside him growing, a physical beast. The machine seems to beep in time to the anger hat's trying to spawn out of him, an irritating noise that just makes him more stressed out.

A nurse comes running in, checks the monitors in alarm and calls for a doctor. He's just telling the rest of the team that they have to leave while they figure out what's going on with Weller when the doctor strides into the room, followed closely by a familiar black-haired figure.

"Jane!" Weller shouts, ignoring both the doctor and the nurse. "What happened?"

His entire body floods with elation just seeing her standing there, seemingly fine. Of course the rest of the team also chime in their own versions of relief and disbelief, ask her an assortment of questions. But Jane doesn't seem to hear any of their comments, her only response is to stare at Kurt for a moment before her eyes light up in pure happiness and she comes up to grab his hand.

"Oh my god you're alive," she gasps. "What the hell is going on?"

With Jane present his blood pressure settles down almost immediately and the frantic alarm stops. The doctor quickly checks him over, replaces the IV and then leaves with a warning about too much stress that Weller doesn't bother to listen to. Whatever stress he had been under was almost alleviated just from knowing she's alive and well, looking at him worriedly while grasping his hand.

"Weller was being an asshat," Zapata volunteers. "But now that you're here, I think the problem is solved."

Jane frowns and Kurt sighs, rolls his eyes at the accuracy of Tasha's description. He lays his head back in exhaustion, suddenly spent after the rush of adrenaline he'd just set off. All the pain he hadn't noticed since he started freaking out about Jane now comes flooding back, makes him tense up and grind his jaw. Weller feels an overwhelming urge to close his eyes and sleep. Yet he can't because he's afraid she's still at risk, will just disappear again. He has to know what happened before he lets go of consciousness.

He wants to ask Jane again, but she is staring at him so intently he can't form words. The relieved smile on her face is entirely bewitching, he's sure her eyes are actually sparkling in the terrible hospital lighting.

Lost in her gaze, his vocal chords still frozen, all Kurt can think about is Jane's continued existence, being too incapacitated to help maintain her security. Also, how much he still loves her; how clear he's made it to everyone in the room, including the woman he's currently fucking.


	19. Chapter 19

There's a lot of commotion when Jane nears Weller's room and it makes her panic level shoot up instantly. She had initially rushed into the hospital at full worry but then calmed down when the nurse told her he had made it out of surgery without incident. But the onrush of medical personnel heading right towards the room number she'd been given now makes Jane start running too.

She bursts into Kurt's room to see everyone freaking out, Weller's vitals monitor making alarming sounds. Weller himself is being physically restrained by Patterson, but is clearly okay enough to be putting up a fight. Jane wonders what the hell could make him think he's going anywhere in the state he's in. She thinks maybe he suffered a head injury she hadn't noticed, something to make him act so belligerently.

"Jane!" Weller shouts, his eyes snapping onto hers as he blatantly ignores all the medical professionals trying to deal with him. "What happened?"

Everyone else starts talking too, asking her questions she doesn't bother to hear. Jane can only fixate on Kurt, his eyes open, so vividly animated. Relief floods through her and she rushes to him, instinctively grabs his hand and brings it to her chest.

"Oh my god you're alive," she gasps. "What the hell is going on?"

For a moment there's a lot of everyone looking at each other and Weller looking rather sheepish. Which makes sense since he's getting admonished by the doctor about excess stress while everyone else glares at him irritably too. At least the alarm has finally stopped bleeping, though it doesn't do much to relieve the tension in the room. Everyone is clearly waiting for someone else to explain the situation when Zapata finally breaks the ice, offers her usual candid interpretation.

"Weller was being an asshat," she states. "But now that you're here, I think the problem is solved."

Jane frowns, unsure how to feel. Obviously she doesn't want Weller to risk his health because he's worried about her, shudders at the thought. It's what had fuelled her actions that entire day, the desire to protect him from his own ridiculous heroic impulses. But it also sets off a flare of warmth inside of her, after everything she's been through. She never imagined he would care that much about her ever again.

Kurt sighs, lays his head back, suddenly looking pale and exhausted. Then he somehow both sags and tenses up all at once, which makes her stare at him worriedly.

He's obviously weak and in pain but Jane still feels her lips curl slightly, to see him so relatively okay after the night he's had. The last she had seen him he still had a gaping wound in his shoulder, had passed out due to blood loss. The sight of him alive is enough to captivate her, keep her in the blissful glow of relief.

But Weller looks incredibly drained from all the action that just occurred, not to mention the surgery he'd just come out of. Jane gives his hand a squeeze, relishes in the warmth of his skin.

"Weller, you should rest," she says fondly, watching as he fights to keep his eyelids up.

Kurt shakes his head, forces his eyes open for the moment.

"No, I can't," he says, his breathing suddenly agitated.

He clearly wants to explain but words don't seem to be coming to him. Jane can feel his stress level shoot up; how taut he becomes as his pulse quickens. Patterson must see it on the monitor too and chimes in to tell him to calm down, breathe.

Jane repeats Patterson's words, rubs slow circles into his palm with her thumb. She thinks to herself she shouldn't be doing this, certainly not in front of the team. And most definitely not with Nas right there.

But Weller is suffering and she is compelled to fix it, as best she can. Luckily, what she's doing seems to be successful, helps to bring his heart rate down once more. Then, when he's finally out of his panic moment and breathing evenly, she tries again.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" Jane asks, her voice dipped in worry.

Weller takes a long breath, visibly fights to find his words.

"I just need to know that you're safe," he finally says, looking up at her desperately.

Damn it, she thinks. Of course. He had asked straight away and she had blown it off in her happiness. Then she had continued to not read his signals very well, selfishly lost in the relief of seeing him alive. Jane cringes at her mistake, at the additional stress she's caused him.

"Oh Kurt, I'm so sorry," Jane apologizes. "Yes I'm safe. I think we're both safe for now."

That draws a lot of exclamations from everyone, a chorus of whats, hows, wtfs.

"What do you mean, Jane?" Nas asks in her usual stern tone. "What happened tonight? Did Roman stay to see you rescue Weller?"

I mean I'm sitting here clinging to your boyfriend because I saved us both by being a bitch to my brother, is the first thought that comes to Jane's mind. Though fortunately she's not quite tired enough to let any of that slip out.

"Yes, Roman saw the whole thing," she replies. "But I managed to convince him I did everything for him, so Shepherd wouldn't blame him for screwing up the entire mission. I mean, it's pretty clear she's been watching Weller for years, he must play a big part in this. So I told Roman I was only protecting Kurt because we need him for Phase Two and that I was mainly trying to protect my dumbass baby brother who seems hellbent on destroying things to satisfy his own paranoia."

"And that worked?" Nas asks skeptically.

"Well I walked away and he didn't put a knife in my back," Jane says. "So yeah, for now, I think it worked."

Everyone looks at her in varying amounts of disbelief, especially Weller, his gaze intensely blue. But at least his blood pressure has settled down again with her revelation and he's clearly physiologically calmer, though still eyeing her with concern.

"You're not just saying this are you?" he asks. "Promise me you're not going to disappear again while I'm asleep."

Jane sighs, shakes her head at him. For a burly serious man, he can be so gorgeously fragile at times. She wants to soothe all his worries, tell him that she wouldn't ever leave him. But she's trying not to lie to him anymore, even if it's to protect him.

"You know I can't guarantee anything. Roman or Shepherd might call me at anytime and I would have to go," she says. "But I'm not lying about what happened with Roman. It was my only play, I gave him what he wanted, his big sister who is hypercritical and hard on him. I think I convinced him he was the one who screwed up, that I was covering for him. Or at least created enough doubt that he's done acting out on the both of us."

Weller seems somewhat satisfied with her answer, finally lets the rest of the tension drop out of his body. Now he just looks exhausted as he lies back and grimaces, then finally closes his eyes.

"Do you need more meds?" Jane asks, her heart clenching at his obvious pain. "I can go get the nurse."

Of course Weller shakes his head, tugs at her hand weakly.

"No, just going to sleep now," he grumbles. "So you should all go home and sleep too. Everyone gets the day off."

Ah, Kurt Weller, still trying to take care of everyone from his hospital bed. After a night of saving old ladies from fires, getting tortured and nearly dying. Not to mention surgery and a recovery room panic attack or two.

Jane flashes him a look of absolute adoration, resists the intense urge to kiss him good night. If she had her way she wouldn't be going anywhere, even with Weller out of immediate danger. She just doesn't want to leave him alone the same night he almost died; even though it's technically morning now and he has an armed guard.

But it's not her place, especially considering he'd been barely interacting with her until two days ago. Oh, and the fact that he's sleeping with someone else that's currently in the room as well. So all Jane can do is give his hand one more squeeze, wish him a good night. Then physically exit the room with everyone else, yet leaving all her thoughts behind with him.

She's walking away, her head full of hopeful regret, when Nas corners her, asks if they can talk. Jane feels her stomach sink, a nervous self-awareness spill all over her. The NSA agent can be prickly at the best of times, is not someone you want to piss off. Especially when she has control of your life, any chance of future freedom.

Jane stands, waiting for some sort of tirade. Then decides she should jump in and apologize first, before Nas starts in on her.

"I'm sorry," Jane stammers awkwardly, unsure how to continue.

Nas gives her a curious look but doesn't seem to be either angry or upset. Just sharp and appraising as usual.

"For what?" she asks. "Because Weller loves you? That's not exactly news to me, Jane. Or to anyone who has eyes."

Oh.

But it was news to her.

Jane stares at the NSA agent dumbstruck, wonders what Nas could possibly mean. Sure Weller had been a bit overprotective the past couple of days but before that he had been quite clear in his behaviour towards her. Or at least it had felt that way to Jane, especially when compared to how things had been between them before. So she had never let her mind go there, to that place of hope. Of course Weller didn't love her, how could he after everything she had done?

But Nas just goes on as if she hasn't just dropped an atomic bomb on the conversation, completely obliterated all of Jane's core beliefs.

"Look Jane," she states, her tone flat, matter of fact. "On the day I met Kurt Weller I told him that you loved him. What I didn't tell him was that I knew he loved you too. Even that day, when he was so hurt and angry."

"He didn't," Jane argues, thinking of how things had been between them. Even now she's sure he doesn't, that all his worry for her is from some sort of residual effect. Affectionate muscle memory of a sort.

But Nas doesn't bother to acknowledge her comment, just continues on.

"Don't tell him I told you this. But the day after we first had sex, Weller tried to kill the Deputy Director of the CIA because the man was stupid enough to brag about being the one who tortured you," she says. "Honestly, I think he might have if I hadn't been there to stop him."

Jane tries to take in the new information but is still stuck on the idea that Weller could possibly love her ever again. She can't even wrap her head around the first concept, much less the second. It's impossible, she thinks. He would never be that out of control, emotional enough to murder someone. And yet, there is no reason for Nas to have mentioned any of it if it wasn't the truth.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks, finally finding her voice again.

Nas sighs, flashes Jane a 'get with the program' kind of look.

"What I'm saying is, I like Kurt but I never had any illusions about the situation. No one who really knows him would ever try and compete for his heart. It's already been taken."

Jane is frozen, absolutely had not seen this conversation coming at all. She thinks of how crushed she had been when she'd heard about Allie's pregnancy, when she'd figured out Weller was together with Nas. She expected Nas to be upset, territorial. Not rational and well-intentioned.

"Now, the thing is I'm going to be out of town for the next few days at least, chasing down a lead on my Sandstorm mole. And we both know that Weller is not just going to rest unless he's forced to. So I assume I can leave that up to you?"

Jane blinks, asks herself if this is really happening. Then she nods dumbly, doesn't want Nas to reconsider the situation.

"Yeah," she says, still questioning reality but seizing the opportunity nevertheless.

"Of course I'll take care of him."


	20. Chapter 20

Weller has never felt so helpless, his heart and his shoulder singing together in a chorus of pure agony. There's a dagger piercing through him, pinning him to the wall and making him bleed at an alarming rate. But the worst part about being stuck in place by a metal blade isn't the pain or the threat to his own life. No, the worst part is that he's unable to do anything but watch and yell and struggle as Roman pulls his switchblade out, holds it up against Jane's throat.

"No!" Weller shouts, over and over. "Do whatever you want to me, just let her go."

"What I want, is for you to watch her die," Roman replies. "Slowly. And with a lot of pain."

"NO!" Weller repeats, with a desperation he's never heard from himself before. "Please, please don't do this."

But of course Roman doesn't listen to him at all, turns towards Jane and runs the blade down from her neck and along her sternum, slicing shirt and skin as one, revealing her tattoos, all newly blood red.

Weller shudders, recoils at the sight. Pulls at the rope binding his hands, needs to pull the knife out of his shoulder despite the risk of the maneuver. But he's tied as tightly as ever, can't get free as Roman drags the knife across Jane's rib cage, then maniacally jams it straight into her heart.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" he screams, every cell in his body filled with rage and despair as he struggles at the ropes, his wrists bloody but still tied together. Absurdly he thinks he can still save her, if he can only get free. So Weller struggles against the pain that pervades his whole body, hollers at Jane to hold on, that he's coming.

But now there's a hand holding him to the wall, shaking his shoulder. Kurt screams at whoever it is to help Jane but he knows in his heart it's Roman, back to finish him now that she's gone. With no moves left he cries out, produces a bloodcurdling noise full of desperation and despair. He's lost her again, lost his goddamned heart.

Yet illogically he still hears her, calling at him anxiously. So of course he responds, reaches for her voice, and wakes to a gentle touch on one shoulder, fire in the other.

"Kurt, wake up. It's just a nightmare," Jane says, making him think he's still dreaming.

Weller opens his eyes and stares at Jane standing over him, her hand on his good shoulder. He blinks a few times, hazy from medication and confused about the situation. He's aware enough to recognize it's barely light outside and she's supposed to be at her safe house sleeping, that there's no reason for her to be at his bedside. Especially now that he's mostly fine.

Even if his life was still in danger, it wouldn't be Jane's role to stay with him and hold his hand. When she'd done it before, it was because he was embarrassingly having a panic attack. But with everything calm again he's sure things will go back to how they were; before this last crisis had pushed them closer again. He'd lost any hope of that place in her life by arresting her, not doing nearly enough to find out what happened to her. Not to mention being so hard on her for so long after she came back, making her prove herself to him while he continued to hold everything against her.

But there's no one else he would rather have there with him in this otherwise incredibly realistic dream. Even the hospital room is exactly right, the sounds and smells so perfectly institutional.

Dream Jane smiles at him and brings her hand up to his forehead, brushes the back of it against his brow as if checking for a fever. It feels so good he closes his eyes in satisfaction, prays that he doesn't actually wake up for awhile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks softly.

Kurt doesn't want to talk about anything, thinks it will break the moment, bring reality back. So he shakes his head no, hopes she will just continue to silently soothe him with her touch.

"Are you sure?" Jane asks. "It seemed like a pretty bad dream."

Weller shakes his head again, looks at at her intently.

"No, this is a really good dream," he replies, willing it not to end.

Jane smiles, laughs at him endearingly.

"This isn't a dream, Kurt," she says, taking his hand and squeezing it as if to prove the point.

Oh that is so much better than it being a dream, Weller thinks to himself. Though he's still not entirely certain he's awake, especially with the meds in his system still playing with his senses.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"I couldn't sleep," Jane says softly. "I just needed to be here."

Okay, probably still a dream, he thinks, staring at her in a daze.

"I'm fine, Jane," he rumbles, just in case it's all real. "It's a knife wound in my shoulder, a broken hand. You don't have to worry about me anymore. That's what you told me, right?"

Jane frowns, rubs the back of his hand with her thumb.

"I told you we were safe from Roman," she mutters. "That doesn't mean I don't have to worry about you anymore."

Oh, most definitely still a dream.

Jane sits, still holding his unbroken hand lightly, careful not to jostle the injured shoulder it's attached to. She is wearing an expression he can't entirely decipher, looks somewhere between content and teary. But like all Jane expressions it's intense, she says so much with her face, her eyes.

"You nearly died, Kurt. There was so much blood," she whispers, as if saying it too loudly would call fate back to take him away. "My brother tried to kill you because he was mad at me. For forgetting that I'm a terrorist. I almost got you killed. All of this is my fault."

Well fuck. Not a dream. He would never want Jane to feel that kind of guilt, think that this is on her. Especially since she saved his life by expressly doing exactly what he had told her not to do.

Weller grunts his disapproval, frowns at her while shaking his head.

"You told me exactly what was going to happen, Jane," he sighs. "And I still let Roman catch me off guard, like a total rookie. If you hadn't found me I would have been dead in minutes. None of this is your fault. And, in hindsight, I've never been so glad that someone broke a direct order. But that doesn't mean what you did was right, you definitely should not have come looking for me while Roman was still on the loose."

Well, at least now she looks defiant, not guilty. It's an improvement, he thinks.

"You know I had to do it," she says with a little shake of her head. "I knew exactly what was going to happen. Can you imagine how I would have felt if you died and I could have done something about it?"

Of course she had to do it. It's part of what makes her Jane. What frustrates him to no end. Yet makes him love her despite everything.

"I know," he replies. "I'm sorry I put you in that position. I don't even think I've said thank you. Thank you, Jane. You saved my life."

She replies with a wry squinty look, a particular expression of hers that he absolutely treasures. It somehow expresses amusement, exasperation, a high degree of skepticism all at once.

"Weller, I put you, me, all of us in this situation," she scoffs. "This was my idea right? And Roman's just what I've made him. I don't get points just because I managed to keep you alive this time."

Sometimes he forgets how much shame she carries for the actions of her former self; or maybe he just hadn't fully realized it until right then. That she exists with that guilt over her at all times, how heavy she must feel.

Honestly, Weller can't understand it at all. How Jane could have been a terrorist, done the things she remembers doing. He sees nothing in her but a desire to do good, doesn't get how a different set of memories could have made such a drastically alternate person. Although her government had tried to murder her, more than once. And, of course, Shepherd and Remi thought they were doing good with their plot to infiltrate the FBI.

Suddenly he realizes he's been silent too long, that Jane has stood back up and is starting to retreat, both physically and emotionally. Kurt sits up and reaches out for her, momentarily forgetting about the wound in his shoulder. Manages to grab her fingertips while he swallows a scream.

She must see the pain in his expression, brings her hand up to run her thumb along his hairline. Looks at him with such concern that he forgets to breathe for a moment as the agony ebbs back to a more bearable level.

"Do you want me to get the nurse?" Jane asks. "You look like you could use another dose of your meds."

Weller shakes his head no, knows the nurse will come check on him soon enough. Right now Jane's doing that soothing thing with her thumb, which is better than any drug they're going to pump into him.

"Kurt, don't be unreasonable," she tries. "I can tell you're in pain."

He shakes his head again, despite the intense heat in his shoulder. Even though he's now sure it's not a dream, he doesn't want her to go anywhere, even just out in the hall. She could always disappear on him, due to unforeseen circumstances.

"We already covered this one, Jane. You make me unreasonable," he replies, giving her the most charming grin he can manage while swallowing back the agony.

She looks at him a bit suspiciously at first, then sighs and tries to hide a smile as she rolls her eyes at him.

"And none of this, me getting hurt, is your fault," he adds, while he's in her good graces. "You have done everything you can to protect me, including some things I would rather you hadn't. Please don't blame yourself. Jane. I can't watch you suffer like that."

"But you're allowed to make me watch you suffer for no reason?" she asks pointedly.

He groans at her persistence but it's Jane, what else does he expect? He would have to do better if he was to make her let it go.

"I'm not suffering," he replies. "I told you, this is a good dream."

He gets a genuine laugh for his efforts, an bemused shake of her head. She drops her hand down from his forehead to cup his jaw, then starts to do the thumb thing along his cheekbone. Weller tries to absorb all of the sensation while wondering if there's any way to ask her to stay and do it forever, without simultaneously losing all of his dignity and scaring her away.

"Maybe you don't need more drugs," she says with a smirk.

No, just you, he thinks to himself.

"No, just you," he hears his blissed-out self saying aloud.

Shit. So much for not scaring her away.

Jane smiles at him again, but this time it's tinged with sadness.

"You don't need me, Kurt," she says, much too seriously.

She rubs his cheekbone one more time, slower than before. It all has some feeling of finality to it that makes him chilled to the bone. So when she drops her hand and starts to turn away, he's ready, catches it before she can take a step.

"Please don't go," he pleads.

Oh, and there goes the rest of his dignity.

There are so many reasons he shouldn't do this. She's an asset, a former terrorist that's already played him once. He was manipulated into loving her, was incredibly angry with her just mere weeks ago. She has already broken his heart, maybe made him unfixable.

He absolutely should not be in love with Jane Doe, definitely can't act on it more than he already has. It goes against everything he stands for, all his values. She's a vulnerable double agent and he's adding to her already overwhelming burden with his need.

He's almost ashamed enough to let her go.

Jane looks down at her hand, caught tightly in his. He thinks he sees her nearly smile, then she bites the corner of her bottom lip adorably.

"Okay," she agrees, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'll stay. But first I'm getting the nurse and you're getting some medication."

"Deal," Weller replies, before she can change her mind.

Jane goes to find a nurse, leaves him to wonder what the hell is wrong with him. Normally he would already be plotting his escape from the hospital, his wound no longer life-threatening. He certainly would not be asking for painkillers, risking more medical attention.

You're getting soft, Weller, he tells himself when Jane reappears with a nurse to check his dressing, dose him up again. He feels pathetic accepting the care when he's already been adequately treated. Surely someone else could use the hospital bed, someone with a more pressing need than an angry shoulder.

Yet when the nurse leaves and Jane returns to her chair beside his bed, he looks at her gratefully as the medication starts to dull the pain.

"Better?" she asks, sounding overly concerned.

Weller nods, letting the drugs wash over him and closing his eyes at the relief.

"Good," Jane says. "Now I'm going to stay right here and you're going to sleep."

Kurt grunts his disapproval at the concept of sleeping, despite the dreaminess fading in. But then he feels Jane rest her hand on top of his lightly, snake her fingers in between his. Her touch instantly calms him, makes him forget that he's meant to take off from the hospital, resist all care.

A minute later Weller's nearly out already, feels his body sinking heavily into the bed. Yet he's sure he feels Jane press a kiss to his temple, just as he drifts off to sleep.

###

A/N So this is it for the plot of this story, thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. It's already gone on for fifteen chapters longer than originally planned! There are some no action, more cutesy less angsty, epilogue chapters still to come though...


	21. Chapter 21

The call comes while she's at the NYO, thinking about Weller instead of listening to Patterson explain some intricate code. The news is not unexpected yet Jane still shakes her head and sighs with affectionate irritation while saying that she is on her way to deal with the issue.

The rest of the team is looking at her when she hangs up the call and Jane rolls her eyes at them, can't help but laugh a little. They all clearly already know what it's about before she says a word, each expressing their personal opinion.

"What is he thinking?"

"It's been what, like a day?"

"He's such an idiot."

Jane bites back another smile, agrees with all of them.

"I've got this," she says, though she doesn't feel as confident as she sounds.

Jane takes one of the SUVs and speeds to the hospital, selfishly pleased that Nas is out of town, that this task has fallen to her. It's not like her to be so fixated on her own desires, but she relishes in this opportunity to be there for Kurt. She's missed him so much, the idea of rebuilding some of that closeness they once had fills her with nervous excitement. Even if it's only because he's hurt, which is entirely her fault - no matter what he keeps telling her.

Jane gets to the hospital and parks illegally, hurries in. Weller may be somewhat incapacitated but he's still highly competent, stubborn as hell. She just hopes he hasn't been too much of a nuisance for the nurses while they delayed his escape.

She gets up to the floor his room is on and sees that he's at the nursing station, trying to sign paperwork with a right hand that's in a cast. It's clear he's frustrated with the process, growling about medical red tape while trying and failing to grip the pen well enough to write.

"Weller, where do you think you're going?" Jane asks, approaching from behind.

Kurt snaps his head up in surprise, turns and groans. But at least he has the decency to look chagrinned, caught in the act.

"They called you," he grumbles, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, I bribed them with baked goods and espresso," she admits. "I knew it would be worth it."

Weller shakes his head at her and sighs.

"Well, I'm still going home," he says.

Jane snatches the pen out of his hand, replaces it with her fingers before he has a chance to react.

"Weller, be reasonable," she replies. "Your apartment building is still being restored from the fire, there's too much smoke damage for you to stay there. You have a wound that needs checking and re-bandaging daily. How are you going to make sure it doesn't get infected when your other hand is broken and there's no one around to take care of you?"

The nurses are all watching the interaction with interest, clearly wondering if she can win a duel of stubbornness with Kurt. They had all learned first hand his resistance to hospital care, how grumpy he was to need help.

"I'll manage," he growls, rolling his eyes.

"You'll manage to what? Compromise your health further?" she asks sarcastically.

"I'm not staying here, Jane," he states in a tone that says he's not going to discuss the point any further.

It's an inroad though, gives her something to work with.

"Okay," she agrees. "But your place is uninhabitable. So where are you going to go?"

Weller looks at her, clearly frustrated but thinking about her question. Which was a step in the right direction. At least he had stopped arguing about living in his smoke-damaged apartment.

"I guess I could use a safe house," he replies after a long moment. "Seeing how me being homeless is case-related."

"You should have a detail too," Jane says. Even though the Roman problem seems to have gone away for the moment, she can't help but be worried about Weller while he's unable to protect himself. "And someone from medical services to come by and check on your wounds."

Kurt groans, shakes his head.

"Waste of resources," he states.

"You need someone to look out for you while you're recovering, Kurt," Jane argues. "And don't tell me you can protect yourself. You have one hand in a cast and the other arm in a sling."

Weller grunts, clearly irritated at being presented with facts that can't be denied.

"I don't need to be looked after," he mutters.

Jane rolls her eyes, sees that they're at an impasse. Now that she's actually dealing with Weller's obstinance she feels some regret at having taken on the task. At least if Nas was around she would be the one awkwardly thrust into the position of caring for Kurt. Not that Jane could picture the NSA agent being a very comforting caregiver. And anyways, she had put herself in the position to look after him, had to figure out a way around his attitude.

It's at that moment the idea forms in her head, from a place of pure logical reasoning and nothing else. Or so Jane tells herself. The question is whether she's brave enough to present it to him.

She looks at Weller, currently wearing his grouchiest expression. He's not going to see this one coming, she thinks to herself.

"You should come stay with me," Jane says, before she can chicken out.

That changes the set of Weller's face for a moment; she sees a flash of surprise, an instant of consideration. But then he frowns again, shakes his head.

"I can't do that," he declares, predictably.

"Why not?" she asks, genuinely wondering what he's going to say.

"Because it's your place, Jane," he replies. "And you're an FBI asset and I'm an AD and the lead agent on the case. It's not appropriate."

"Because you're going to take advantage of me?" Jane asks, the words somehow slipping out before she manages to screen them mentally.

Weller looks absolutely flustered, she even sees a hint of a blush.

"No, of course not," he stammers. "I would never…"

She lets him flounder for a bit, bites down hard on a grin. As if she thought Kurt Weller would make a move on her, that he would ever try anything close to inappropriate.

"Then what's the problem?" she asks, innocently. "You need a place to stay, there is more than enough space at my safe house. You have someone to help you with the wound on your back, and we're using fewer resources."

"No, Jane," he says, clearly not having even thought about it.

"Give me a good reason why not," she replies.

"It would look bad," he grumbles.

"That is not a good reason," she states.

Weller grunts his disagreement. Impasse number two, Jane thinks.

"Look Kurt," she says. "If you had a home to go to and somewhere there to watch out for you then I wouldn't even be here. But you don't and we both know I'm not going to let you be on your own when you clearly need help. Even if you are in charge."

Jane gives him a defiant look; one he's seen many times before. He must realize what it means because he exhales irritably, scowls at her.

"I'm offering you a way out of your hospital bed. And it's just until you have use of at least one of your arms. So no one's going to think you did anything inappropriate."

She swears he blushes again, knows that she's turned him around. Now it's just a matter of giving him a graceful way into the decision that's already been made.

"So are you coming with me or not?" she asks. "Because I'm parked illegally and my boss wouldn't like me abusing FBI power just to continue this pointless argument."

Weller manages to hide his laugh but he can't stop his eyes from twinkling in amusement.

"Yeah, you definitely wouldn't want to disobey your boss," he replies sardonically.

Jane quirks a smile at his comeback, flashes him a wink.

"So tell me, boss," she says. "Where am I driving you to?"

Kurt tilts his head at her, gives her a resigned laugh.

"To your safe house," he sighs. "Just for now."

Jane feels a smile spread across her face, turns back to the watching nurses and flashes them a thumbs up. Her grin then grows as she watches Weller try to maintain a frown, fail miserably at it.

She doesn't stop to worry about things being awkward, about how he was barely talking to her just a few days ago and now she's told him to move in. Because it's Weller and someone needs to look after him while he's injured. And somehow, to her shock and glee, she's managed to put herself in that role. So Jane isn't going to question it, let any anxieties take root.

She holds her hand out to him, as if to shake on the deal. He offers her his broken right hand, using his fingertips to tug at hers. Then he grips her hand tightly with his fingers and she can feel the emotion in his action, something deep and vulnerable, something so very Kurt.

"Thank you," he says, all resistance gone. "You really don't have to do this."

Oh Kurt, she thinks. You don't know how much I do.


	22. Chapter 22

Weller doesn't know how he got himself into this situation. All he knows is it's both the worst and best idea she's ever come up with, that she fucking bamboozled him with unfailing logic and those sassy worried eyes.

He has always taken care of himself, it was a fact of life. As a kid it was a necessity, a hard lesson. As an adult, the habit was ingrained. If he let someone else care for him then he was relinquishing control, saying he couldn't do it all on his own. He had let Sarah bandage him up when she lived at his place because they were family of course. But he had never been the kind of guy to moan about his injuries and illnesses to girlfriends, hadn't been the type to want girls to kiss it better.

He definitely wants Jane to kiss it better.

It is such a bad idea. He would never let anyone else do this for him other than his sister. And then only because she would insist and pout if he didn't let her. He would most definitely not let Nas play caretaker to him, nor could he even imagine her offering the service. Not that she couldn't be tender, human. Just he wouldn't want it, to put her in that position, to be in that role with her. They like each other and the sex is good but there's not much more than that. It's the story of all his girlfriends really.

But this? Sleeping in Jane's spare room, under her ever watchful eye. Being told to eat, that it's time to change his dressings. He would normally be so resentful, full of irritation that he can't do it all alone. And yet. He finds himself looking forward to her ministrations, her admonitions. The way her fingers deftly check his wound for any sign of infection, how close she leans in to re-bandage his shoulder. The little scowl she wears when he's pushing his physical limits, trying to ignore the pain of his injury.

And so far he's only been there less than twenty-four hours, has spent most of that time asleep.

She had put him to bed directly from the hospital and he had been so worn out from his attempted escape that he'd slept through the rest of the day. Then he had basically gone right back to sleep after a strenuous evening of slowly feeding himself take out, followed by Jane cleaning and re-bandaging his wound.

At least he hadn't made any of those pitiful noises he remembers making in the back of that fire truck. Weller still groans internally when he thinks about everything that happened, how he'd screwed it all up. How Jane had to both save him and confront Roman on her own. And now take care of his sorry ass, when it was all his fault in the first place.

There are so many things he's upset with himself about that they all just mill around in his head. Currently he's thinking about how angry he had been at her when she came back, how he had blamed all his hurt on her. The pain of letting his father back into his life only to learn that his oldest fear was true. The heartache of finding Taylor only to lose her again. The brokenness of losing Taylor and Jane all at once.

He was the one that convinced himself Jane was Taylor, convinced her too. He was so sure that he'd let his father off the hook, gave him a second chance. Then he'd arrested Jane without any real evidence, not even giving her a chance to explain. Didn't do anything to prevent the CIA from torturing her, didn't do nearly enough to find her. Then, to top it off, he had let himself and everyone else blame her for what happened to Mayfair.

He knows he's said some hurtful things to her, acted so coldly towards her. And as much as he hates to admit it, Kurt knows her well enough to understand how much pain it must have been causing her. But she still came in every day, displayed endless loyalty and patience for him and the team. Because Jane has the most integrity, the biggest heart of anyone.

Weller doesn't know how she can just put it all aside and care so tenderly for him. Surely she must hate having him there in her safe house where he'd been so incredibly harsh to her. A constant reminder of what happened between them, all of their worst history.

Kurt sighs, tries to shake himself out of his funk. He knows he's morose because he's injured and useless, because he feels like he's been foisted on Jane, that she had little choice but to take care of him in this absurd arrangement. He's the goddamned AD of the New York branch of the FBI. It did not meet his personal standards to be forcing his care on an asset.

But as Weller lies in bed, listening to Jane work out in the living room, he knows she wouldn't let him leave even if he insisted. Which makes him feel pathetic yet relieved, because he definitely can't take care of himself at the moment and would never have asked anyone to help him.

He hears Jane finish her morning exercises then start the shower, desperately tries to turn his mind away from the mental image that starts to form. This is why it's such a terrible idea, he thinks. His inappropriate Jane-related thoughts already run rampant without her constant presence, he can't possibly keep them at bay while living in her space. Especially when it's the weekend and neither of them have anywhere to go.

Weller gets out of bed, needs to occupy his mind with something other than listening to Jane shower. He searches the kitchen and finds coffee supplies but not much else so he awkwardly uses his broken hand to start some brewing, almost dropping the pot but somehow saving it in the end.

While the coffee brews Weller explores the rest of the space, curious about how Jane lives. But his investigations turn up very little and he's done looking around by the time he hears her exit the bathroom.

A few minutes later Jane emerges from her room looking incredibly morning fresh. She pours two cups of coffee and puts a couple slices of bread in the toaster, then brings the mugs over to the table.

Kurt walks over to the table and sits down, absurdly nervous and excited about the act of morning coffee with Jane. He watches as she waits for the toast, his head abuzz with too many thoughts. He tries to not make it obvious yet it's hard to control and he's still half dazed when she brings the toast to the table with some peanut butter and jam.

"Sorry, this is all I've got," she says shyly.

After his look about of the place, Weller knows it's true. He's never seen a more barren living space, devoid of anything personal. Which just doesn't make sense to him. Jane affects everyone she meets so strongly, how can her home not reflect anything of her?

He knows he's avoiding the obvious. That it's not her home at all, just a FBI safe house. That her space does reflect her isolation, her impermanence.

The thought chills him to his bones. He doesn't like to think of her so untethered that she could fly off at anytime, like the bird tattoo that so visually defines her. Though she owes him nothing, has already gone above and beyond to show her loyalty. Everything had been so bleak without her. Whatever the cost, he wants, needs her, in his life.

"Kurt?" she asks with a hint of concern. "Are you okay?"

He realizes he's been staring at the toast, internally waging a fierce debate about whether it's the time to bring up all his worries about her. If he goes with his gut instinct, he's just going to overdo it and piss her off, start the day off horribly. But the thing is, Weller isn't sure he knows any other way, only has ever gone at problems with his usual bull in a china shop method. What he does know is he doesn't want to upset her, just needs her to be more attached to everything. Her space, her life, him.

Even if it doesn't make any sense. That having things meant Jane wouldn't disappear. He is all too aware of the fact that Jane could easily vanish at any point and he would be unlikely to ever find out what happened to her. That had already been proven to him, by their so-called allies at the CIA. Though of course he was mainly to blame for that situation, should have just let her talk to him, not dealt with all of it while half-drunk and overly emotional.

This is all going through his head, making him stare at the plate of toast and worrying Jane. Weller looks up and sees the furrow in her brow, decides he can't flip out on her at the moment. Not when she's volunteered to take care of him and is stuck with him all day.

"Yeah, toast is fine," he finally replies. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

Jane gives him an inquiring look and Kurt remembers how much he loves being under her scrutiny. The way she used to look at him, the depth of their connection. He had forgotten all that in his anger. Or maybe it was its loss that had made him so upset.

"About what?" she finally asks.

It's an opening, he's just got to use it well.

"What we should do today," he replies innocently.

Jane questions him with her eyes when he doesn't go any further, lets one side of her mouth curl into a grin.

"And? Any conclusions?" she asks, clearly wondering why he's being cryptic.

"Shopping," Weller answers seriously.

At first Jane tilts her head at him in confusion, pauses for a moment before replying thoughtfully.

"Right sorry, I keep forgetting most of your stuff was smoke-damaged," she reasons. "We should definitely go get you some more clothes. What else do you need?"

"Yeah, well. I could use another pair of sweats," he says. "But I was thinking more like food? And maybe some house things?"

Now she's giving him a very suspicious look, trending towards a frown. He recognizes it's the risky point of the conversation, that he has to tread with care.

"I eat take out," she replies. "And what house things?"

It does sound ridiculous when she says it that way. The safe house has all the furnishings necessary and it's not like he expects her to want to decorate the place. He's just upset that there isn't anything tying Jane to where she lives other than a bag of clothing and toiletries.

Damn it. He just wanted her to buy her stuff, hadn't exactly come up with how to explain it.

"Well, now that I'm here and I have absolutely nothing else to do, I'm going to cook for you," Kurt says. That part is easy, it had been a major part of the plan anyways. She clearly didn't eat enough, there weren't even leftover takeout containers in the fridge. And now that he's looking, he can see how thin she is, almost frail. Which is not Jane-like at all and certainly not going to continue under his watch.

Jane shakes her head at him.

"You're supposed to be resting," she argues.

"I'm going to be bored out of my mind, Jane," he replies. "If it takes me all day to make dinner because I've only got half an arm and half a hand then at least it keeps me occupied. And when you're here, you can do the chopping. Maybe you'll even learn something about cooking and not have to just eat toast."

She scowls at his little jab but with a hint of a smile. So far so good, he thinks.

"Okay, food shopping," she agrees. "But seriously, Weller. What house things could you possibly want to buy?"

Just anything that says your existence is permanent, he thinks. Something that says Jane lives here, that shows how incredible you are.

Weller shrugs.

"I'm not sure," he says. "Some books? Uno Attack? A cactus? Don't worry, no major purchases."

Jane's expression is now all amusement, zero comprehension. She even laughs when he mentions the ridiculous game, shakes her head at the memory.

"I don't think you're going to win at Uno Attack anytime soon," she says. "But okay, we'll go shopping."

Success!

Weller feels his chest lighten, a grin spreading across his face. Things look even brighter when Jane returns his goofy smile with just a hint of suspicion still in her eye. It's absurd it makes him so happy, that he can do something for her. Even if it's just buying her a plant, maybe some fuzzy slippers.

After all, she saved his life, has chosen to put up with his grumpy injured self. The least he can do is keep her fed, let her know how much he cares.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N hmm, quelle surprise, it got angsty again...

###

Jane had never considered food to be much more than an irritating essential, mostly consumed on the run at the NYO or alone at the safe house, after a long day of action. Without any memory of tastes she enjoyed and little time to discover new ones, she hadn't bothered to explore the culinary world too far. Even her life before the black site had been a steady diet of cereal and cheap takeout. Then she had spent three months forcing down just enough of the CIA's gruel to keep herself alive. So even after she escaped and got dragged back into the FBI, Jane hadn't bothered to eat more than the bare minimum. It had seemed like a waste of time, nourishing herself when she felt so wretched inside. So she had gotten by on toast, peanut butter, salad in a bag.

It had all been fine, or so she thought. At a time when she had so little control over her own fate, it felt good to whittle down her needs, be in charge of at least one thing. She had liked how her body had hardened too, it felt like a reflection of how her time at the black site had changed the rest of her.

But apparently, Weller does not feel the same; seems determined to force feed her three hearty meals a day, despite her protestations. It had started out with a grocery shopping mission where he bought more food than she had ever had in the house the entire time she'd been there, cumulatively. All sorts of interesting items, some of which she'd never heard of or seen before.

And then the initiative had begun, though she hadn't realized it at the time. He'd started simple, with pancakes. Somehow convinced her to eat a whole stack when she would have otherwise considered a single pancake to be sufficient. The extra food had made her feel uncomfortably full and slightly regretful but the satisfied grin on his face as he watched her smash through her breakfast had made her chest flash with grudging warmth.

Then there were the packed lunches of various fresh veggies and sandwiches in containers that he checked at the end of the day, frowning whenever he found them uneaten. It made her feel guilty, knowing the effort he'd put in and how much it meant to him. So Jane had started sneaking the food to the younger FBI agents, though obviously not to anyone who would accidentally tell Weller about it. She thinks he's suspicious though, has to remember to sometimes come home with leftovers, especially on busy days when they're out in the field.

Dinnertime had changed the most though. At first, coming home to mysterious smells and new tastes had been elating, something to look forward to at the end of the work day when previously she had hated returning to the empty safe house. But as the days passed, Jane started to feel a niggling anxiety when seated at the table with Weller, could feel him silently evaluating the amount she ate, furrowing his brow in displeasure when she wasn't very hungry.

Case in point, she had arrived home that day exhausted and a bit nauseous from an impromptu boat chase. If the safe house had been dark and lonely like normal she would have gone straight to bed in order to have the energy to get up the next morning for her usual early workout. But of course, Weller had baked a lasagna which made the place smell amazing and filled the air with hominess. So she didn't have much choice but to sit with him at the table, get served a huge piece.

Jane sits, staring at the pasta and salad on her plate. She can feel Weller's eyes on her from across the table, waiting for her to start eating. But she's tired and irritable, sick of feeling pressured to eat when all she wants to do is crawl into bed. Then, as soon as she starts to feel resentful about Kurt's silent judging, Jane spirals into the shame of being mad when he's trying to help. A month ago she would have given anything to have Weller cook for her, care about her. But at the moment it's too much, more than she can handle.

Her stomach curdles, clenches with angry anxiety. Jane pushes away from the table, ironically realizing, even then, that she's overreacting because she's exhausted and hasn't eaten since breakfast. But still she's about to lose it, so taut she's going to snap.

"I'm not hungry," she mutters, trying to stalk away so quickly that Weller doesn't have time to argue.

But of course he isn't so easily defeated, stands and tells her that she needs to eat.

Which is the worst thing he could have said, pushes all of her overly sensitive buttons. Jane turns around, can't help but engage.

"No Weller, you may be in charge at the NYO but you don't get to control my life outside of work," she snarls. "So stop trying to force feed me when I don't want to eat."

Weller puts on his grumpy disapproving face but his eyes show only worry, no anger at all. Which just pisses Jane off even more, makes her feel guilty as hell.

"You must be hungry. I know you've been out in the field all day," he grumbles. "You don't eat enough."

Jane groans, rolls her eyes at him.

"I do now," she says.

"Only because I rag you endlessly about it," he replies.

"Which drives me crazy," she states, her voice hard-edged. "What the hell is your problem, Weller?"

"My problem is you're not taking care of yourself," he fires back, his tone now more angry, less worried than before.

"That is not your problem," she says, glaring at him.

"Yes it is!" Weller explodes, slamming his broken hand down on the table with a bang.

Jane winces when his cast hits the table and makes Weller grimace. Even while angry her first instinct is still to reach for him, ask him if he's alright. Then sympathy for him sneaks in as she watches him try to swallow his pain, act as if he's fine.

Shit, she thinks. She hadn't meant to make Weller so upset. Nor should he think her self-care is somehow on him.

"Whoa," she says. "What the hell, Weller. I can take care of myself."

"No you can't," he grumbles. "You're way too thin."

Jane frowns, wonders what her weight has to do with anything if she's able to do the job, isn't a liability to the team.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks.

"It means that I fucked up Jane!" Weller snaps back. "It means I've been doing a shit job of making sure you're okay."

What the hell, she thinks. Anger flares in her gut at the idea of Weller being in charge of her well being when he'd been so distant and cold until just recently. She'd been alone with her sins for so long before he decided to care again. What gave him the right to put himself in that role?

"Well, it's a good thing it's not actually your job Kurt, because you're right. I'm not okay. I was tortured for three months. Then none of you trusted me; I didn't even trust myself. I come from a family of terrorists and they don't trust me either. I don't have anything or anyone. Just a hope that I can help stop this attack before Shepherd figures out that I'm a traitor and kills me. So you don't need to worry that I'm not eating enough because we both know I'm probably not going to around long enough for it to matter."

Oh shit. She hadn't meant for any of that to come out. But apparently being tired and starving had made her emotions more volatile than she thought.

At least her outburst had paused the argument, stopped Weller in his tracks and turned his eyes from fire to stone. He stares at her blankly with a furrowed brow as his face falls and his entire body sags, the anger visibly seeping out of him.

"Please don't say that," he says, low and slow.

"Why not, it's the truth," she snipes back.

"I know, but I don't want to face it," Weller growls, looking into her with muddled eyes. "It was my job to take care of you, Jane. And I screwed it up."

Jane sighs, irritated that a simple thing like dinner had escalated into a full on drama. She should be relishing her time with Weller, after how things had been between them. But all his guilt and his concern for her is also stifling, too much to bear.

"It wasn't your job, Kurt. You don't owe me anything. I'm not Taylor," she says.

Surely that should end the conversation, she thinks. All of this is just a misplaced sense of responsibility, Weller holding onto something that was never there.

"No. You're Jane. And whether you want to be or not, you're my responsibility. I just didn't realize it at the time. I thought that feeling was so strong because you were Taylor. But it turns out, I can't stop feeling it, even when it isn't my place anymore."

Jane pauses, her chest freezing with Weller's forlorn tone, his heartfelt admission. It isn't his place; that's what she's been trying to tell him. So why does she feel so sad hearing him say it out loud?

Weller gazes into her for a long uncomfortable silence, waiting for her response. But when she doesn't come up with any words for well over a minute, he frowns and starts walking towards the door.

"I knew this was a bad idea. I should go," he mutters.

Jane's startled into action by his movement, scurries to head him off.

"You're not going anywhere," she says, blocking his way to the door.

He's too close, she can feel the heat of him on her own skin. His eyes pose a question that she doesn't know how to answer.

She's learned in her short new life that she's ultimately alone, has to take care of herself. Trusting her safety to anyone else has only led to torture and heartbreak. But it's exhausting to always be on edge, wary of any kindness. And she wants to trust Weller, but it's taking some adjustment.

"I'm sorry," Jane says. "I'm just not used to anyone caring if I eat or if I'm okay."

Of course Weller's response is to look deep into her, his eyes shimmering with emotion. He frowns just slightly at what he sees, reaches out with his broken hand to tug at her fingertips.

"I see you Jane. I know you're hurting and some of it is my fault. So yeah, I guess I'm going overboard because I want to make up for having my head stuck up my ass and not noticing before."

She almost smiles at his self-deprecating comment, the flicker of his fingers against hers. Maybe it wasn't so bad being observed, being known.

"But if you want me to stay, I don't think I can stop it," he continues. "I know you don't need me to fight your battles. But I can't help wanting to."

He really does see her, somehow came up with the right thing to say. Jane suddenly realizes it was the assumption that she needed him to feed her, care for her that had pissed her off so much. Especially after she'd been fending for herself for so long. It was irritating to have someone come in and try to take charge of her life, even if it was well-meant.

So just knowing that Weller sees it too, that she is perfectly capable on her own, somehow makes it easier to accept his help. Viewing it as Kurt trying his best to atone for his own perceived sins is so much easier than seeing it as unnecessary coddling.

Jane looks up at Weller, breathes through the slight discomfort she feels at the adoring glint in his eyes.

"It's okay," she says. "You don't have to stop."

Kurt's face floods with a smile, his eyes twinkling with delight.

"So does that mean you going to have dinner with me?" he asks with a wink.

Jane laughs, shakes her head at him as she tugs him close and wraps her arms around him.

"You may be charming, Kurt Weller," she says into his chest. "But don't push your luck."


	24. Chapter 24

The first time he sees them it's by accident, a misplaced glance as he comes in the door after an early morning walk. But then his eyes lock on and Weller feels like he stares for ages before he forcibly flicks his gaze away, hurries by to his room. Jane doesn't seem to notice, but not much gets by her. So it's hard to say if he got caught in the act.

Fuck, Kurt thinks to himself as he sits on the bed, brings his hands to his face. Fuck, fuck fuck.

It's not like he didn't know the kinds of things they did at a CIA black site; he just didn't let himself think about it all happening to Jane. Because he couldn't handle the shame and anger it triggered in him, all that regret.

Now, however, he can't unsee the scars that crisscross her body, the only lasting physical evidence of the pain she suffered. Can't stop picturing how they happened, grinding his jaw until his head aches.

And if Jane saw him staring, that was just another gaping issue that he needed to deal with. There were so many wrong impressions she could get from the way his eyes wouldn't leave her body. He didn't even want to start thinking about it.

Kurt sits on the bed, desperately trying to get his hammering thoughts in control while an avalanche of emotions suffocates him. It's nearly impossible to focus on the here and now when the horrendous near past of Jane's life is so acutely on his mind. But he can't just let the problem fester; avoid the issue. Leave Jane wondering about everything – if he saw, if he cared, if it affected how he views her.

How the hell does he bring it up though? Weller runs that question through his still-stunned brain. She rarely says anything about what happened to her for obvious reasons. She probably wants to hide it away, repress all of the memories. Or maybe she relives it in her own mind all the time, is just waiting for her chance at revenge. Either way, she's certainly unlikely to want to talk to him about it, especially since he's complicit.

A very large part of him wants to just pretend it didn't happen, wuss out in the worst way. But as he hears Jane's footsteps approaching his door, Kurt feels his stomach clench, knows he has to at least try. It's the right thing to do, no matter how awkward the conversation ends up being.

So before he can change his mind, Weller steps out his door just as she's about to pass by, stops her in her tracks.

Jane tenses and takes a step back, eyes him warily. She's got her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, hiding as much skin as possible. That alone tells him she saw him staring, that he has to fix this before she gets the wrong idea. But now that she's standing there in front of him, Weller jams right up and all he can do is gape while his brain tries to reboot.

"What are you doing?" she asks, quiet, but sharp-edged.

Good question, he thinks to himself.

He has no words, suddenly can't vocalize anything with his heart stuck in his throat. But he needs her to understand. So Weller reaches out slowly with his broken hand, gives her every chance to back away as he takes her right hand in his. When Jane doesn't resist, just looks at him indecipherably, Kurt gently unfolds her arm until it's by her side. Next, he does the same with her other hand, just as slowly, trying to make it clear that she can stop him at anytime. But again she just lets him move her left arm until it hangs by her side as well; leaving her standing there in just a sports bra and shorts, her startled eyes staring down at her own torso.

"Tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable," he says, waiting for her to say it right away. He can barely breathe with the emotional pressure building up around them.

But she doesn't say anything, even looks up into his eyes as he steps closer, takes a hard look at the CIA's handiwork.

Weller winces as he takes in the intricate web of scars, some so fine he hadn't noticed them at first. Someone did this to her. Took a blade to her skin. Whipped her. Burnt her. Anger, red hot, builds in his gut, rises into his throat. He tries to keep it there because he knows it will only be replaced by his constant companions, guilt and sorrow. And he can't cry about it right now, not when she's the one who was tortured.

He has to stop his hands from automatically reaching out to touch her, making the moment even more inappropriate than it already is. He wants to run his fingers across her skin, know every inch of her. But he settles for slowly running his eyes up and down her body, before finally Jane glances up to give him a questioning, defensive look.

Kurt's mind is jammed with apologies, sympathy, horror, and fury. He can think of a million things he should say to her, how sorry he is, that he's only just started to see how much she suffered, that he's been negligent in so many ways.

But what comes out is what he often thinks when he sees her, no matter the situation. He's just never said it out loud before, never had the nerve.

"You are so beautiful," he says, his voice full of reverence. "I hope you know that."

Jane frowns, makes a disapproving noise.

"I'm smelly and sweaty, Kurt," she groans. "And too thin, apparently."

Weller smirks at the unexpected snipe, his own words being turned against him. But it doesn't belie the fact that she is gorgeous even after her morning workout, covered in scars and cold sweat.

She moves to cross her arms again but he catches her hands, tugs them back. He feels her shiver, scans her up and down again.

"Are you cold?" he asks, his mind lost in the moment. He had meant to say all sorts of other things, be a lot more expressive than he's managed.

Jane bites her lower lip, shakes her head shyly.

"What's going on Kurt?" she asks.

Good question, he thinks. You've got her trapped in the hallway, Weller. Time to say something or let her go.

"I'm so sorry they hurt you," he mumbles, his words pathetic even to his own ears. Hurt doesn't describe what he sees on her. "I shouldn't have let that happen."

Jane deflects his words with a frown; shakes her head slightly.

"We've already done this," she says. "It's all in the past."

There are two ways he can take her words; Weller wonders if she meant to make it ambiguous, what 'this' she's referring to. The black site or them? In a way it didn't matter; he doesn't want to leave any of it in the past.

"I think it's still here," he replies, looking her sternly in the eye. "And I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"What's the wrong idea?" she asks, quiet and breathy.

"That you need to hide yourself," he says, hoping he sounds as sure as he is.

Jane scoffs, shakes her head again. Her eyes point down towards her body, then stay transfixed to the ground.

"Look at me, Kurt," she whispers. "It would be hard enough with just the tattoos. But how could I explain the rest of it to anyone?"

She's right of course, no regular civilian could ever understand what she's been through. Even he can't understand, has never been abused in that way, day in and day out for months. But at least he has some idea, knows the feeling of being unjustly hurt, scarred inside and out. How small it can make you feel, how ugly. It's why she has to at least know that he's seen her, that it makes her more beautiful to him than ever.

"Some day, some guy will be lucky enough to know you. And he'll see the strength in every one of your scars," Weller replies. "Or you'd never give him the time of day."

Jane glances up at him, grips his fingertips tightly in hers. Her eyes are fleeting, as if unsure. For a moment he's certain she's about to argue, run, leave him there with all his remorse. She's got that lost expression to her, the one that broke him the day they first met. He'd known right then he'd do anything to make that look go away and that still hasn't changed.

Weller feels his chest tighten, wonders what else he can do to convince her, bring her back to him. He's still searching for more words, some magical deed when he feels a shift in Jane, something settling. She looks up at him and doesn't shimmy her gaze away; then the corner of her mouth starts to rise, form a ghost of a smile.

"You already know me, Weller," she breathes, her eyes shining with emotion.

It's as if someone exploded a bomb inside his chest. The burst of feeling is so intense that Kurt just stares at her and forgets to exhale until his brain starts to become oxygen deprived. Then, once he starts breathing again, he searches for some way to tell her how incredible she is despite the sheer impossibility of the task

Weller's still feeling the tingles when he realizes he has to say something, ends up deciding that the simple truth is best.

But first he tugs at her left hand, pulling it up until he's brushing a kiss against her thumb. Then he steps closer, traces her scars with a long lingering look.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I feel pretty damn lucky about it too."

Jane rolls her eyes and he can tell she's trying not to smile. Which makes his heart thrum; settles his soul.

"Shut up, Kurt," she sighs, unable to hide the affection in her voice.

Not a chance, he thinks. He'd do anything for her. Except stop loving her, trying to tell her so in every way.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N full disclosure, this story no longer has any real direction... but I do keep on thinking of things that can happen now that they're "stuck" together at the safe house. (and no, not the kind of things that require a ratings change :D)

###

At first she'd been a bit apprehensive but it hadn't taken long to get used to having Weller around. Coming home to delicious smells emanating from the previously neglected kitchen, having someone there to talk to, just be with. It was bliss compared to her previous existence, even if it had resulted in an argument or two.

It turns out Jane had been really lonely. Of course she knew that, somewhere deep inside. But she was so good at pretending, even to herself. That all she had was okay, her well deserved penance.

Living with Weller fills the emptiness that sits in her soul, ever since she found out who she really was. Yet he naively thinks she's the one taking care of him, even as he tends lovingly to her emotional needs.

Jane opens the door to the safe house, expecting the aroma of dinner cooking, Weller bustling around trying to do too much with his injured shoulder, his broken hand. But when she steps inside, her nose doesn't register anything on the stove and it's dimly lit, as quiet as it used to be.

She thinks Weller must have gone out, knows how bored he's been. He keeps trying to come up with reasons to show up at the NYO, then has to be physically escorted out of the building by one of the team members before he'll leave. At the moment it's still somewhere between amusing and frustrating to all of them watching Weller seethe with inaction. She can only hope that his wound heals before he starts really losing his patience.

Jane takes her coat off and is walking over to the kitchen when she's startled by a movement in the living room, her heart leaping into her throat. For a moment she stands there frozen in the past. The last time someone had been there waiting for her all her nightmares had come true.

But this time Kurt isn't waiting with cold eyes, a hard tone. Instead, he's lying on the couch, tries to hide a grunt of pain as he turns to look in her direction, not bothering to sit up.

Jane frowns and forces herself not to overreact; she's learned that Weller does not want to be treated like he's hurting, even when it's obvious he is. But she's already noted that he is quiet and lethargic compared to the past couple of days, wonders what he got up to after they finally kicked him out of the office that afternoon. She hopes he just pushed himself too hard walking home and needed a nap. But when she gets closer she sees a barely-contained expression of pain on his face, a dazed sheen over his blue eyes.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?" she asks, tilting her head at him as she turns on the light and approaches the couch.

Weller gives her a small nod, a valiant attempt at an easy grin.

"Yeah, just a little tired," he says. "How was the rest of your day?"

"Pretty standard, nothing Sandstorm-related happened," she replies. "But there was a series of bombings in this area. We were almost called into investigate but then the guy was caught by NYPD, did you hear about that?"

Kurt nods, says he heard about it on his way home. Then he closes his eyes, exhales a long slow breath.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she tries, not sure how hard to push.

"I'm fine, Jane," Weller mutters. "Just a little sore."

"Okay then sit up," she replies. "I should check your wound anyways. It's been more than twenty-four hours."

Weller raises an irritated eyebrow at her and she can see him go through his options before he scowls and pushes himself up stiffly, grinding his jaw with the effort it takes. Slowly he swings his legs off to make space for her, then leans his head back against the couch, eyes closed once again.

Jane sits beside him, watching as his features shift from a grimace to a tight smile. Worry travels up her neck as she studies him from up close, sees the tension and tiredness written all over his body.

"Did something happen today?" she asks, reaching for the hem of his shirt. He had looked a bit pale when he'd dropped by the office but nothing to indicate he was feeling this rough.

Weller groans and tilts his head towards her slowly.

"Um. Maybe," he finally admits, after a very long pause.

Jane squints at him, bites her lower lip in consideration. Immediately her mind latches onto one ridiculous idea and she blurts it out without thinking.

"Did you stop a bomb attack on your way home from the NYO?" she asks, the words sounding as absurd out loud as they had in her head.

But when Weller doesn't immediately say no, she just sits there shaking her head at him while he starts sputtering about how he was just going for groceries when the bomber happened to run right by him. Then, because he'd been unarmed due to his current inability to wield a weapon, of course he'd been obligated to tackle the guy in order to retrieve the detonation trigger for the next bomb.

"So you chased him down and hit him with your cast," Jane says, wanting to hug him and shout at him all at once. Even thinking about one-handed, broken Kurt taking on an armed assailant makes her heart bounce jarringly in her chest.

"Yeah," Weller replies. "But I'm fine, Jane. Just a little scraped up."

Her brow furrows at his words, concern sitting on her shoulders.

"Let me see," she says, her words soft but beseeching.

Weller grumbles at his fate but raises his injured arm slowly and gingerly pulls his shirt off with his broken hand, shivering a little when the air hits his bare skin. He looks away from her, head hanging as she sighs at the fresh road rash and bruising on his shoulder.

"Oh, Kurt," Jane groans. "That looks really painful. You've been lying here all afternoon like this? Why didn't you call?"

"It's just a scrape," Weller replies, but the slight gasp in his tone as she touches his new wounds belies his words.

"Actually, I think you might have torn a few stitches too," Jane says, eyeing the dark splotches on his shoulder bandage as she removes it.

Jane's frown deepens as she gets a look at his sutures and the dark fluid oozing out from between the missing sutures. The wound had already been a bit red the previous day but she'd hoped it was just part of the healing process. Now, however, she's fairly certain it's gotten infected, that he's going to need antibiotics.

She puts the back of her hand up to the wound and it definitely feels hotter than it should. Then she moves her hand up to Weller's forehead, grinds her teeth when she compares his temperature to her own.

"I don't have a fever," Weller mutters. "Just tired."

"I think you're running a temperature but I don't have a proper thermometer here," Jane says. "And your wound needs to be looked at, Kurt. We should go to the hospital."

"No way," Weller says, still facing away from her but shaking his head vehemently. "It's just a couple ripped stitches, it'll still heal fine. Please, can't you just put on some of that antibiotic cream?"

Jane groans, knows she would be just as bad but it's different when it's Kurt who's at risk. She ghosts her thumb over his angry red skin, feels the heat radiating off of him.

"I still think you need to get cleared by a doctor. We could just call medical here," she tries.

"It's after hours, Jane," Weller grumbles. "I don't want to call a FBI doc all the way over here to tell me I need to take it easy and get the wound rechecked if it's not healing right."

"It isn't healing right," Jane fires back. "And I can't let you put yourself through more pain just because you're a stubborn ass."

Kurt finally looks at her, scowls at being called a donkey and shakes his head irritably.

"Okay, if it doesn't improve by tomorrow morning I'll come with you to the NYO and get medical to take a look," he says. "But please, not now. I just want to sleep."

Jane lets out a breath of relief, is okay with the compromise. She doesn't want to drag Kurt anywhere either; or argue with him more when his shoulders are sagging with weariness, his eyes flashing a desperate plea.

"Deal," she replies, tracing her fingers along his fiery sutures once more before reaching over for the first aid supplies.

First she cleans everything off with an antiseptic wipe, wincing in solidarity as it touches Weller's fresh road burns. Then she covers it all with the antibiotic ointment before re-bandaging his wound, her fingers pressing comfortingly into his skin as she applies the new gauze.

Weller looks away from her while she works, only turns when she finishes the job, spontaneously brushes her lips against the bandage.

"No wonder I'm so hot," he murmurs.

Jane feels herself turn red, has the urge to pull away but Weller's dopey self-satisfied smile is enough to make her grin despite herself, roll her eyes in mock exasperation.

"You are impossible," she says into his skin. "I can't believe you took down a serial bomber on your way to the store. What if he'd drawn his weapon before you tackled him? You'd be dead, Kurt. And I'd be broken, all over again."

Weller brings his casted right hand up to her cheek, turns until he's holding her face too close to hers.

"You would be fine, Jane," he says, much too surely. "You are incredibly resilient."

Jane shakes her head, feels a deep frown settle in.

"I would definitely not be fine," she replies. "Just thinking about it makes my heart ache. I couldn't do this without you."

It sounds stupid to say out loud, admit this truth she's always known but never voiced. Weller owes nothing to her, she'd planned to fuck with his mind, use him as a tool. And though she has gotten over the idea that he only tolerated her presence due to necessity, she was certain he had learned his lesson about getting too close to her.

So she wasn't sure what her awkward declaration would mean to him, if he'd see her words trying to knit them together in a way that didn't work anymore.

But the blue of his eyes is soft and inviting, the curve of his mouth absolutely adoring as he trails his lips up her orbital bone, plants a kiss on her temple.

"You don't have to," he says, barely a whisper. "I'm right here."


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Apparently I have a thing for making them cranky at dinnertime :P

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Dinner arrives and Weller puts in a valiant effort at mind over matter. His body aches everywhere, starting at the fire in his injured shoulder and steadily emanating out from there until he hurts from head to toe.

Part of him says that this isn't right, that Jane's desire to take him to see a doctor is entirely reasonable. But then the louder voice in him argues that he's just suffering the consequences from pushing himself too far that afternoon, that he'll feel better in the morning.

It had been fairly stupid to attempt a take down on his own, he can see that in hindsight. He certainly would have given her shit for doing the same thing in his condition. But in the moment Kurt had just reacted based on experience and muscle memory. And with the adrenaline rush that came from the action, his shoulder hadn't even felt that bad. Definitely bearable considering the alternative was letting a criminal get away, risk more bombing casualties.

Afterwards however, once he'd convinced the cops he didn't need to see EMS, the epinephrine had drained out out of his system and Weller had crashed hard; barely making it to the couch in the safe house before falling on his face.

Of course he'd meant to be up and fine by the time Jane arrived home but ended up sleeping straight through and didn't even feel much better for it. Which had predictably led to an argument about calling the doctor, one he had won with pure stubbornness, a semi-sincere promise.

Thankfully having Jane around bolsters him physically and emotionally. The way she drifts her fingers over his wounds is so intensely intimate he forgets to breathe as she's touching him. Then hearing her say she needs him makes his chest fill with warmth, despite his best intentions.

It's pitiful but Kurt has almost come to terms with the effect she has on him, how needy she can make him feel. At least he's aware of it, does his best to counter his inner desires with some semblance of self control.

But having her touch him and not respond inappropriately is hard enough even when he's got it together. So of course he had gotten too close on the couch, after she'd changed his bandage, left her imprint on his skin. It had felt so alarmingly good that his hands and lips had taken over for his paralyzed brain, just barely resisted the sad curve of her mouth, glancing against her eyebrow instead.

Even that had set his every nerve ending on fire, possibly why she thought he was feverish. At the time he'd brushed off his chills as latent fatigue, sure it was just due to an afternoon of action. But now, just over an hour later, the shiver is still there and a deep ache is settling in all throughout his body.

Weller sits at the table, fighting the urge to just slump back and close his eyes. He doesn't want to make Jane any more worried than she already is, give her any reason to re-start the hospital argument.

He takes a few calming breaths, pushes away the compounding waves of tiredness and pain. Then he looks at his dinner, even manages to choke down a few bites before deciding that food is definitely not the answer to his problems. The introduction of a new element to his system sets off all sorts of internal alarm bells, a queasy feeling that starts at his gut then slides up his esophagus. But Weller manages to clench his jaw, breathe through it until the wave of nausea has passed. He even thinks he's done a fairly good job at hiding his discomfort until he sees Jane studying him from across the table.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" she asks, giving him a scrutinizing look that he loves and hates all at once.

"Yeah, I guess I'm just not hungry," he says, thinking how it's not technically a lie.

Jane narrows her eyes at his statement, glances down at his barely touched meal then back up at him. For a moment Kurt feels ten years old again, sitting at the dinner table, avoiding his father's anger. All that age old guilt and shame comes rushing at him, that depressing feeling of being powerless.

Damn. Where the hell had that come from?

It's as if he's suddenly slipping streams emotionally, too physically weak to keep his mind attuned to the here and now. Jane's worry somehow becomes an age-old accusation and he feels anxious anger rise in his throat, about to erupt.

Weller bites down hard on the emotion, struggles to keep it under control. He's irritated because he doesn't even know what he's upset about anymore, genuinely feels like a cranky kid in the moment. He's exhausted and supposed to eat when he hurts everywhere, just wants to hide away and sleep for a long time.

He's hitting a low blood sugar, high emotion moment when Jane walks over and startles him out of his brooding with a hand on his shoulder.

"If you're not hungry, I'll put it away and you can have it later," she says, like nothing is amiss. But she also gives his neck a little rub, an encouraging squeeze.

"You look like you're going to fall asleep at the table," Jane continues. "Why don't you go lie down. I'm going to finish eating and clean up. I'll come check on you when I'm done."

He doesn't know how she does it, both invokes and defuses emotion in him so dramatically. At the moment he's immensely grateful that she read him so well, managed to say exactly what was needed to turn his mood around.

All the anxiety and angst suddenly evaporates from his body and he feels himself physically sag in relief. Jane must feel it as well because she gives his neck another stroke with her thumb, making his skin tingle with her touch.

"Yeah, thanks. That sounds good," Weller says, trying not to purr his appreciation. "But you don't need to come check on me, I'm just going to sleep."

He can almost hear her roll her eyes, which makes his lip quirk upward just a bit.

"I'm still going to come check on you, Weller," Jane says, predictably.

Kurt looks up at her with a rueful grin, sees that she's definitely still worried but letting him have his way for now. Or just giving himself enough rope to hang himself with, he muses. Either way, it's not something he's going to question.

Weller gets up and Jane's hand drifts down to his shoulder, ghosts against his wound before letting him go. Instantly cold without her warmth he struggles to walk away and not just turn around, knowing that he'd look so lost she would immediately collect him into her arms.

Forcing himself away, Kurt drags himself to bed, barely making it through the toothbrushing portion of the evening. By the time he's struggled into PJs and crawled under the covers he's so relieved and exhausted that his eyes slam shut immediately.

Sleep doesn't take him though, the discomfort of his body too much to escape from. It's enough to make him wonder again if Jane is right, if the achy exhaustion he feels is more than just the natural cost of overdoing things that afternoon.

Kurt shivers a bit, pulls the blankets up higher. Takes deep breaths as he tries to find a position that doesn't rub against his injured shoulder. Then groans when he realizes there are very few options that don't leave him in distinct discomfort.

He hadn't hurt that badly in awhile, not since the first few days after he'd somehow foisted himself on Jane. Even then, things had been improving steadily and it was just a matter of bearing the pain. Now though, he feels both physically and emotionally compromised. So fragile he almost lost it for no reason at dinner, still feels undefinably needy even now.

In the depths of his heart he knows what he wants. To open up, let her in. Allow himself to be vulnerable, actually let Jane take care of him, soothe the ache that won't leave him alone. But he's not at all sure he can do it, if he has the strength to break down those walls.

He can hear her start to clean up, put things away. Even that makes his heart flutter for a moment, the still new idea of co-habitating with Jane. Having her so close makes him question everything, all of his ancient hurts, all of his old habits.

Weller lies there, trying to focus on the Jane sounds coming from the kitchen instead of the clammy discomfort of his body. For a while his mind drifts between his usual dilemma; both eagerly awaiting her nightly check in and admonishing himself for desiring the comfort of her touch. Even when she checks his temperature like he's a little boy, he's only feigning indignance. Which is both pathetic and all too true for his liking.

Kurt is partway through admonishing himself for the millionth time when alternating waves of hot and cold start crashing through his body. At least it leaves him incapable of thinking anymore, unable to do anything other than clench his muscles, grind his jaw.

All he wants to do is sleep, is sure that he will wake up feeling better. But his body is in pain and his head is stubbornly determined to ride it out. Which leaves him lying there huddled in a cold sweat, moaning softly when he finally hears Jane approach his room.

Weller tries to shift so he can watch her come in, take in every moment of her. But there isn't enough energy in his body to move at all and he's breathing hard just from the attempt.

Or maybe that's just his heart skittering perilously as he hears her slip in through the door, approach on quiet feet. Even while half-delirious, his instinct tells him to resist any sort of comfort. But then she sits on the edge of the bed and rests the back of her hand to his forehead, runs her fingers all over his fiery skin. And all Kurt can think is how blissful it feels, how glad he is that she's there to take care of him.


	27. Chapter 27

Jane putters around the kitchen, washing the last of the dishes and wiping off the counters. She's glad to have something to do, even this boring new routine of post-dinner cleaning. Because otherwise her mind just keeps drifting to Weller, her every thought Kurt-related.

Mostly she worries about his health, how drained he'd been all night. He had barely managed to eat any of the food they'd ordered in and then gone to bed right away. Which could just be a residual effect from his afternoon adventure, too much adrenaline and action for his healing body. Yet Jane's sure that he's running a fever and needs antibiotics. The question is how far she lets things go before resorting to threats and tears.

Jane finishes in the kitchen and walks over to Weller's room, listens at the door for a moment before pushing it open. She stands in the doorway for another few breaths to see if he's awake, then approaches quietly when it seems like he isn't.

She's almost standing right over him when she sees that his eyes are half-open, looking up at her blankly.

"I thought you'd already be asleep," she comments. He had looked so completely wiped at dinner time, barely able to contain himself. She had hoped he'd be out the minute his head hit the pillow, that his exhaustion was strictly from overexertion and not from an infection. But as she approaches him she can see that his eyes are still glazed over, his jaw clenched.

Jane sits on the edge of his bed, touches the back of her hand to his forehead. She frowns at the result, reaches over to turn on the bedside table lamp.

"Kurt, you're burning up," she says, her chest tight with anxiety.

Weller shakes his head but there's no strength to his denial.

"M'okay," he mutters.

"You are not okay," Jane replies with force. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No," Kurt grunts, shutting his eyes in resistance and somehow sinking further into the bed. "Just gonna sleep."

He could be so frustratingly endearing. There was no way she could get him to the hospital without his cooperation or some sort of battle involving EMTs. But he was obviously weakening, needed medical attention immediately.

"Weller, I'm serious," she tries. "I'm really worried."

Kurt mumbles something in response, curls into himself as he both shivers and burns. Jane rubs his shoulder absently as she lets out a long breath, tries to tamp down the panic rising in her belly. She could try to make him move, but that seemed like an uphill battle. Or maybe she could work her way around the problem, call for assistance.

"You're still so hot, I'm going to go get you an ice pack," she says to Weller, who just hums sleepily in response.

Jane hurries out into the kitchen and calls Patterson in a panic; blurts everything out worriedly, her words as frantic as her heartbeat.

"What do you mean he stopped the bomber?" Patterson exclaims. "He was unarmed. And broken!"

Jane sighs, knows the feeling of disbelief all too well. But she was way past that point with Weller, would tell him he's an idiot when he's on some medication.

"I know," she groans. "I can't explain it either. But can you send a doctor over here? He needs antibiotics and I don't want to fight with him about an ambulance."

Patterson says that she's on it, will give one of the FBI doctors an emergency call. Jane feels the panic in her chest settle a bit at that reassurance, knows that Patterson will make sure that it happens.

She hangs up the phone and pulls the ice pack out of the freezer. Then looks around and grabs a couple of hand towels, wetting one down before hurrying back to see how Weller is doing.

He's got his back to the door and is shifting restlessly when she gets back to his room, watches for a moment from the doorway. Even in the dark she can tell he's taut with pain, can't even find a way to lie down comfortably.

Jane sits on the bed again, puts her hand on Weller's back to let him know that she's there, then starts to rub it gently as she leans over, whispers in his ear.

"I called Patterson, the doctor's coming," she says. "And I brought an ice pack to cool you down until they get here."

Kurt shivers in response to her touch, making her heart break and her anxiety flare all at once when he doesn't argue about the doctor coming. His skin is on fire but he's still tremoring as if he's cold as she wraps the ice pack in a towel and places it behind his neck, holding it there with one hand while running the other against his fevered brow.

"That feel okay?" she asks, her thumb curving along his orbital bone; watching as his eyelids struggle to open with her question.

"Mm hmm," he mumbles, so weakly it makes her gut clench painfully.

Jane takes that as encouragement and starts to run the wet hand towel over his forehead while still holding the ice pack against the back of his neck, desperate to cool him down.

"You're going to be okay, Kurt," she says, trying to soothe the shudder in her own heart. It's not been very long since she was in the back of an fire truck, trying to stop him from bleeding out. And her fear of losing him has only grown stronger since then, absolutely cannot imagine going on without him.

"M'alright," Weller grunts, with a little shake of his head. "You don't have to do this."

The thought of Kurt suffering alone breaks her heart and she leans over to kiss him on the temple, frowning at the heat of his skin on her lips.

"I said I'd take care of you," she says. "And I meant it."

Weller exhales and she feels his body relax a little bit under her hands as she finishes wiping the sweat off his face and neck and puts the cloth aside. He's clearly not used to having someone do this for him, resists her care as much as possible. And yet his body language tells her that he wants it, just doesn't know how to accept it.

"Thank you," he mutters, looking up at her with dazed eyes. "M'sorry."

Jane smiles sadly, wonders what he could be sorry about. But she doesn't ask, just switches the ice pack from his neck to his forehead, then places her free hand on his sternum, rubbing his chest to surreptitiously check his breathing and heart rate.

"Mm," Kurt softly moans. "Feels so good."

She smiles again at his rare openness, how he curls into her touch. It's hard to resist leaning over to kiss him again, but she reminds herself that he isn't hers, no matter what the situation appeared to be at that moment.

So Jane just sits and runs her palm along his ribs, trying to soothe both his pain and her worry. It seems to settle Weller's breathing, so of course she keeps on drawing circles on his chest, murmuring reassurances. It helps to feel his heartbeat under her hand too, makes her marginally calmer as she waits for the doctor to arrive.

It seems like ages later when she hears a knock at the door but when Jane checks the clock she sees it's barely been an hour. Weller had just fallen asleep in her hands and she's reluctant to let him go, even just to get the door. But her more urgent need to get him some medical attention finally pushes her into action.

"Doctor's here," she whispers into Kurt's ear, just in case he's still able to sense her presence. "I'll be right back."

Jane lets the doctor in and leads her up to Weller's room, where he's still lying on his good shoulder, facing away from the door. She sits down on the bed beside him and leans down, gently brushing her thumb against his temple.

"Hey, Dr. Miller is here," she murmurs in his ear. "She's going to check you out, okay?"

Weller grumbles sleepily, burrows deeper into his pillow.

Jane smiles a bit at his vulnerability in the moment, looks up and shakes her head at the doctor who's pulling out supplies and placing them on the bedside table. She does need him to wake up though, and she can think of one way to get his attention.

"Weller, if you don't wake up for this she's going to stick a thermometer up your ass," Jane says, giving him a light shake on his injured shoulder.

This time Kurt makes an irritated noise, turns his head to look up at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Mm, n'doctor," he mutters, trying to shake his head.

Jane rolls her eyes and wonders where his stubbornness would end on this situation if he was left to his own devices. Thankfully she doesn't have to find out how bad he would let it get, is already feeling guilty about letting things go so far.

"The doctor's here and she's going to look you over to make me feel better okay?" she tries. "I'm really worried about you, Kurt."

Jane inwardly sighs, hates manipulating him, but when it comes to his health she's willing to do anything. And of course it works almost immediately, Weller stirring underneath her hands to turn towards her, wincing as he lays down flat, putting pressure on his wound.

"Here, let me help you sit up," Jane says, reaching under his shoulders and supporting him while she props up a couple of pillows, then helps him scoot back.

Weller is still groggy but blinking slowly and trying to keep his eyes open as she rubs his neck, says pointless soothing things into his ear. It both hurts and warms her heart to see him so suddenly docile and willing to be prodded, just because she asked.

The doctor comes over and Jane can't help but give Kurt a glancing kiss on top of his head as she moves off the bed, letting the doctor take over her position next to Weller.

First Dr. Miller sticks a thermometer in his mouth and listens to his heart through a stethoscope as she coaxes him to take deep breaths. When she checks the thermometer reading, she frowns and puts it down where Jane can see the result, 102.9 degrees.

"Agent Weller, I'm going take a look at your wound now," the doctor says, helping Kurt lean forward, his head bowed against his chest.

She pulls up his shirt, frowns again as she removes the dressing and takes a long look at the cut before glancing back over at Jane and shaking her head.

"Well, Agent Weller, you've torn through a few of these stitches, which is less of an issue than the wound being infected. I'd like to admit you to a hospital for observation while I put you on some IV medication," Dr. Miller says.

Jane bites her lip while the doctor redresses Kurt's injury, lets him sit back against the headboard again. He's already shaking his head, his body visually tensing up.

"No," he mutters predictably. "I'm okay."

"You're far from okay, Agent," the doctor replies. "You're lucky we caught this before it went septic but we need to get you on IV antibiotics right away."

"No hospital," Weller repeats, his shoulders settling in hard. "I'll be fine."

Jane sighs. He has a lot of fight for a guy that barely has the energy to hold his own head up. She wonders what the doctor is going to do, if they are going to actually have to physically wrestle him into an ambulance.

But Dr. Miller just looks at Jane and rolls her eyes in candid annoyance while reaching into her medical bag and pulling out a few bags of IV saline, along with some other vials of medication.

"I've had the pleasure of working with Agent Weller before," she comments wryly. "I had an inkling this could be a problem so I brought some extra supplies just in case he refused to be admitted. If you feel comfortable monitoring him, I can start him on an antibiotic drip and see if that brings his temperature down. If his condition improves by morning, I'll consider letting him stay here. Can we all agree to start with that?"

Kurt exhales in relief, lets his head sag to his chest.

"Thanks doc," he mutters, his shoulders visibly loosening. "I really needed that."

Jane nods too, extremely grateful that she doesn't have to fight with Weller about it. The doctor just sighs, starts preparing supplies.

Dr. Miller swabs Weller's hand and inserts the IV catheter while Jane grabs a coat stand to hang the saline bag on. Once the saline bag is in place, she sits beside him on the bed again, rubs his neck gently as the doctor gets the drip going correctly. His skin is still alarmingly hot but Jane feels calmer knowing that he's being treated, should show improvement soon.

Once the meds have started flowing Jane walks the doctor out, receiving some final instructions on what to do if Weller didn't get better through the night. She takes it all in carefully even though she doesn't want to think about his condition deteriorating, is already upset enough about him as it is.

"Thank you again for coming," Jane says. "He was just being so stubborn and I was really worried."

Dr. Miller shakes her head knowingly, lets out an amused sigh.

"It's a good thing he's charming," she says with a wink, stepping out the door.

Jane locks up and rushes back to Weller, thinking a little too much about exactly how charming the idiot could be. And it doesn't help when he's still sitting slumped over in the bed, his head drooped and his eyes shut tight.

"Oh Kurt," Jane says, sitting down beside him, instantly reaching out to touch him, rub his back soothingly. "You should lie down, you look exhausted."

Weller offers no resistance as she shuffles him forward with her arm, then helps him lie down, cradling his head until it meets the pillow.

"You comfortable?" she asks, soft in his ear.

"Mm hmm," Kurt mutters. "M'kay now, y'don have to stay."

Jane bites down on a smile, flashes back to the doctor's description of Weller. For a stubborn mule he was absolutely endearing, could be so sweet.

So she settles in next to him, carefully grasps his fingers, avoiding the IV in his uncasted hand. Runs her thumb along the base of his, trying to soothe away the last of his tension.

"You go to sleep, Kurt," she whispers. "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
